#ive got posts in there from JULY and they only get buried more and more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reallifesultanas · 5 years ago

Text

Death and funerals/Halál és temetés

Death was also a very important part of the life of Ottoman Empire, especially because violent death was extremely common among male members of the dynasty. We are all familiar with the law of fratricide, which has led to the death of hundreds of princes (in many cases infants, children) by being strangled with a silk string. In my post today, however, I would rather talk about those for whom the cause and time of death are not so clear. I brought you some interesting, possibly suspicious deaths, and tried to gather everything about the causes of death of each sultan, prince, and sultana; and I also brought a brief history of the funerals: who was buried where, when there were unusual changes in funeral habits…

In general, very little is known about the deaths of the sultans of the early period. In many cases, we are left with guesses about the cause of death. However, the death of Murad I. (r. 1362-1389) is, for example, a refreshing exception, as several descriptions of his death have been made. He was killed by a Serbian nobleman during or before the Battle of Rigómező (1389). “… Absolutely unexpectedly, Milos Obilic who, out of cunning and intrigue, said he had adopted Islam, asked us to (…) kiss the shining lord’s foot, but instead of doing so, he inevitably stabbed a poisoned knife hidden in his dress into the glorious body of the lord, and seriously wounded him, and drank him with the serbet of the martyrs.” Of course, it is not certain that everything happened as described, but it is certain that he was victim of murder by the hands of Milos Obilic.

The death of Bayezid I (r. 1389-1402) himself is also interesting. Some believe that he committed suicide in the captivity of Timur Lenk (r. 1370-1405) after Timur humiliated his wife, Maria before his eyes. Others say he was poisoned during captivity.

Either way, the deaths of the sultans always marked the beginning of something new. If the sultan died, there was no time to mourn. For their wives, concorts, and chief pashas had a different matter after death: to immediately notify the crown prince, or the prince whom they themselves wanted to see on the throne. The sultan became the one who reach the capital first and ascended the throne. In the early days, sultans often died during a campaign away from their home - the imperial capital - so it was their pashas who informed the princes about the situation. The princes did everything they could to get to the capital first. In many cases, they also received help from the pashas who supported them. For example, Bayezid II (r. 1481-1512), who had previously married his daughters to influential pashas. His sons-in-laws did everything they could to slow down Bayezid’s biggest rival, one of his brothers, on the road to Istanbul. They succeeded and Bayezid ascended the throne, so the pashas received their reward for it.

Unlike Bayezid II, at the death of Sultan Süleyman I (r. 1520-1566), there was no longer a competitor to his son, Selim II (r. 1566-1574). Yet Süleyman still died at a very bad moment - right in the middle of a battle - caused by the health problems by his gout. To avoid rebellion and loss of soldier's motivation, the grand vezir, Sokollu Mehmed Pasha concealed the sultan's death. He clothed servants in the sultan's robes, he dictated commands written by similarly handwritten scribes on behalf of the sultan until Selim II finally arrived to the camp and became a sultan.

In later periods, after his death the sultan's consorts played the main role, not his pashas, as the sultans died more and more often in the capital. One particularly interesting example of this is Selim II's death, which he suffered after slipping in the bath and which his wife, Nurbanu Sutan (⁓1525-1583), shared only with the Grand Vizier, and secretly sent a message to Nurbanu's son Murad (r. 1574-1595) to come to the capital. This was necessary because Murad's younger brothers were in the capital at the time of Selim's death.

The sultans were always buried in the current imperial capital. Bursa, as a former capital, played an important role even after the conquest of Constantinapole, as the princes who had been executed or died by natural causes were buried there. Of course, there were exceptions, during the reign of Süleyman I (r. 1520-1566) there was two. His favorite son, Mehmed (1521-1543), died of illness in Manisa, but breaking with customs, Süleyman not only buried him in the capital instead of Bursa, but had made a mosque to him, which vied with the mosques of the sultans. His other son, the rebellious Bayezid (1525-1562) was less fortunate. Because he was executed near the Iranian border, Süleyman even refused him the Bursa funeral so he was buried with his sons near to the Iranian border. His youngest son, who was an infant and could not flee to Iran with his him, was buried in Bursa among other princes of similar destiny.

Before we scrutinize the sultanas, here is a brief summary of the period of the “Sultanate of women” and the period immediately preceding it, about the causes of death of the sultans and princes, without claiming completeness*:

Bayezid II (b. 1447): 24 April 1512, most probably poisoning or natural causes

Selim I (d. 1470): 22 September 1520, most probably tumor or anthrax but plague is also an option

Süleyman I (b. 1494): 7 September 1566, gout but some sources suggest stroke also beside the gout

Şehzade Mahmud (b. 1512): 29 October 1521, smallpox or plague

Şehzade Musztafa (b. 1515): 6 october 1553, strangled

Şehzade Mehmed (b. 1546): 10 october1553, strangled

Şehzade Ahmed (b. ?): 1552, illness

Şehzade Murad (b. 1519): 12 October 1521, smallpox or plague

Şehzade Mehmed (b. 1521): 6 November 1543, smallpox or plague

Şehzade Abdullah (b. ⁓1525): c. 1527, maybe smallpox or plague

Şehzade Bayezid (b. ⁓1525 ): 23 July 1562, strangled

Şehzade Orhan (b. ⁓1543): 23 July 1562, strangled

Şehzade Osman (b. ⁓1545): 23 July 1562, strangled

Şehzade Abdullah (b. ⁓1548): 23 July 1562, strangled

Şehzade Mehmed (b. ⁓1544): 23 July 1562, strangled

Şehzade Murad (b. ⁓1556): 23 July 1562, strangled

Şehzade ? (b. ⁓1560/1): July 1562, strangled

Şehzade Cihangir (b. 1531): 27 November 1553, chronical illness and some kind of acut desease

Selim II: 12/15 December 1574, head injury after slipping

Şehzade Mehmed (b. ⁓1570): 1573/74, illness

Şehzade Szulejmán (b. ⁓1570): 22 December 1574, strangled

Şehzade Abdullah (b. ⁓1570): 22 December 1574, strangled

Şehzade Ali (b. ⁓1572): 1572, soon after his death

Şehzade Oszmán (b. ⁓1573/4): 22 December 1574, strangled

Şehzade Cihangir (b. ⁓1573/4): 22 December 1574, strangled

Murad III (b. 1546): 16 January 1595, natural causes

Şehzade Selim (b. 1567): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Mahmud (b. 1568): c. 1581, illness

Şehzade Süleyman, Cihangir, Ahmed died after their birth

Şehzade Abdullah (b. 1585): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Mustafa (b. 1585): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Bayezid (b. 1586): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Cihangir (b. 1587): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Abdurrahman (b. ?): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Alemşah (b. ?): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Aleaddin Davud (b. ?): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Ali (b. ?): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Hasan (b. ?): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Hüseyin (b. ?): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Ishak (b. ?): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Murad (b. ?): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Oszmán (b. ?): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Ömer (b. ?): 28 January 1595, strangled

Şehzade Yusuf (b. ?): 28 January 1595, strangled

Mehmed III (b. 1566): 21 December 1603, natural causes but some suggest he died because of health problems caused by his overweight

Şehzade Selim (b. 1585): 1597, illness

Şehzade Mahmud (b. 1587): summer of 1603, strangled

Şehzade Süleyman (b. ?): 1597, illness

Şehzade Cihangir (b. ?): 1602, illness

Ahmed I (b. 1590): 22 November 1617, typhus or gastric bleeding

Şehzade Mehmed (b. 1605): 12 January 1621, strangled

Şehzade Bayezid (b. 1612): 27 July 1635, strangled

Şehzade Kasim (b. 1614): 17 February 1638, strangled

Şehzade Süleyman (b. 1615): 27 July 1635, strangled

Şehzade Hasan, Orhan, Selim, Hüseyin, Cihangir and possibly others also died an infants or young children

Mustafa I (b. ⁓1600): 1639, natural causes most probably, but epilepsy os also an option

Osman II (b. 1604): murder

Şehzade Ömer (b. 1621): 1622, there are more than one options: accident, shock, murder, illness

Murad IV (b. 1612): 8 February 1640, cirrhosis and other chronical illnesses

He had lot of sons, but all of them died as infants. Evliya Celebi suggest that all of them were born with a bad health and they died soon. This suggests an extreme situation, poisoning or genetical desease are also options.

Ibrahim I (b. 1615): 18 August 1648, strangled

Şehzade Murad, Osman, Bayezid, Cihangir died as infants caused by illness

Şehzade Selim (b. 1644): 1669, most probably by illness

Mehmed IV (b. 1642): / November 1693, natural causes

Süleyman II (b. 1642): 22 June, 1691, his body got swollen then he fall into coma and later died.

Ahmed II (b. 1643): 6 February 1695, natural causes or stress-caused stroke/heart-attack

It is especially rare when the exact cause and date are both available for the sultanas. We know their lives primarily from registers that list their possessions and salaries. Thus, in many cases, we can only conclude that when they disappeared from the registers, they may have died. However, these registers are often incomplete, sometimes missing for several years, decades, and they can even be fragmentary. In addition, the cause of death was recorded even less frequently. To this we can usually deduce from if there was a child born, or there was a fresh marriage immediately before the time of death, or possibly was there a huge epidemic at the time of death? About the influential sultanas, the historians and ambassadors have occasionally recorded the supposed cause of death. However, this is quite rare, as will become clear from reading the list at the bottom of the chapter.

The burial of sultans has always evoked double feelings in the people, because on the day of the funeral, the ascension of the new sultan was celebrated and meanwhile the new sultan's brothers were executed by the new sultan so the people moruned them. In contrast, the mourning and funeral customs of the sultanas were much calmer, receiving more attention in this sense. At the time of their death, the needy were often given alms and food for the sake of the sultana's soul. For example, the burial of Handan Valide Sultan (⁓1570-1605) after her death on November 9, 1605, the Venetian ambassador recorded the vast amount of alms distributed among the people. In addition, the death and burial of a valide sultan was always associated with a public mourning, as the people could express their sympathy for the sultan, who had lost his mother at that time. After the death of Ayşe Hafsa (⁓1475-1534), the mother of Süleyman I, for example, the city mourned for several days. Süleyman’s mother Hafsa Sultan had been an honored member of the royal family. In describing her funeral, the royal chancellor and historian Celalzade Mustafa honored her with a long series of formulas of praise, among which are the most exalted that can be applied to a Muslim woman, likening her to the Prophet Muhammad’s first wife Khadija, his daughter Fatima, and his third and favorite wife ‘A’isha: “[S]he was a woman of great ascetism and a lady of righteous thought, queen of the realm of chastity and the Khadija of the capital of purity, builder of charitable foundations and doer of pious deeds, the Fatima of the era and the ‘A’isha of the age.”

In the case of sultanas, instead of violent death, childbirth was the leading death-cause. Many died in labour and childbirth... Although the palace’s doctors and midwives were the bests in the world, childbirth was a dangerous activity in those days. The fact is, however, that far fewer women from the dynasty of the Ottoman Empire died of childbirth compared to the western empires. The most famous birth-related death belongs to Esmehan Kaya. Kaya Sultan (1633-1658) was the daughter of Murad IV (r. 1623-1640), and she inherited the nature of her father, this is why she was considered by many to be Murad’s most worthy child. Legend has it that Esmehan Kaya was predicted that she would die in childbirth, which is why she did not allowed her husband close to her for years. However, over time true love developed between her and her husband, which of course was fulfilled physically. Esmehan Kaya gave birth to two children, so perhaps he had already forgotten the prophecy and breathed a sigh of relief. However, there were complications at the birth of her third child. The placenta did not detached, even though the midwives tried various tortures, so a few days after giving birth, she died by sepsis after horrible sufferings. Her little daughter didn't live too long either. One of Kaya’s sisters, Safiye (⁓1540-1580), also died during childbirth.

However, not Kaya and her sister were the only ones who died during childbirth, Two daughters of Selim II (r. 1566-1574) died in a similar way: Fatma Sultan (1558-1580), who died along her daughter after giving birth, at a fairly young age; and Esmehan Sultan (⁓1545-1585) who died of complications after the birth of his fourth child. Her son survived her just with a month. In her case, the complications may also have been related to the fact that she gave birth in a relatively old age compared to the customs of the period, at about forty years of age. It is interesting, by the way, that Selim's other daughter, Şah (1544-1580), also died at a relatively young age due to illness, so of Selim's daughters, only Gevherhan (⁓1545-1622?) was the one who died in old age and presumably by natural causes.

According to legends, Murad III's (r. 1574-1595) favourite consort, Safiye Sultan(⁓1550-1620?), also almost died in one of her miscarriages, but as we know she eventually survived and was able to rule for many, many more years. The less fortunate Mahfiruze Hatun (⁓1590-1608 / 12?), concubine of Ahmed I, and the mother of his eldest son, presumably also died in childbirth, although in her case several alternatives arose as to the cause of death, including epidemic also.

Interestingly, among the sultan’s favorites, we know even fewer cases where a concubine died during childbirth. However, the reason for this is presumably not that this has not happened ever… The reason is that when the concubine died in childbirth she was simply forgotten. After all, the average concubine did not give birth to a large number of children, especially as long as the one-concubine-one-son rule was followed. Thus, in all likelihood, when they died during childbirth, they either had no other children or only daughters, so they were less important persons, their names were recorded less, and then they disappeared from the public consciousness.

From the period of the “Sultanate of women” I also collected the causes and dates of the death of the most famous sultanas, without claiming completeness, as many sultanas were left out of the list because neither the year nor the reason of their death is known and in many cases not even their names *:

Ayşe Hafsa Sultan (b. ⁓1475): 19 March 1534, illness, most probably stroke or cancer since she suffered for months

Beyhan Sultan (b. ⁓1492): c. 1559, most probably natural causes

Hatice Sultan (b. ⁓1491): ?

Fatma Sultan (b. ⁓1493): 1557, most probably natural causes or illness

daughters of Selim I

Hafsa Sultan (b. ⁓1495/1500): 10 July 1538, most probably illness

Şah-i Huban Sultan (sz. ⁓1500): 1572, natural causes

Hürrem Sultan (b. ⁓1503): 15 April 1558, most probably cancer and maybe malaria also

Mihrimah Sultan (b. 1522): 25 January 1578, most probably natural causes or illness

Ayşe Hümaşah Sultan (b. 1541): 1594, natural causes or illness

Şehzade Mehmed’s daughter

Hümaşah Sultan (b. 1543): 1582, natural causes or illness

Fatma Hanimsultan (b. 1567): 29 July 1588, illness or complications during childbirth

Raziye Sultan (b. ⁓1515): October 1521, smallpox or plague

Mahidevran Hatun (b. ⁓1500): 3 February 1581, natural causes

Mahidevran Hatun’s granddaughters:

Fatma Sultan (b. ⁓1545): 1577, illness or childbirth

Nergiz-Şah Sultan (b. ⁓1536): c. 1592, natural causes or illness

Gülfem Hatun (b. ⁓1495): 1562, natiral causes or execution

Nurbanu Sultan (b. ⁓1525): 7 December 1583, most probably a sudden illness, or stroke/heart-attack, but poisoning is also an options

Esmehan Sultan (b. ⁓1545): 8 August 1585, complications after childbirth

Şah Sultan (b. 1544): September 1580, illness

Gevherhan Sultan (b. ⁓1545): after 1604, maybe in 1622, natural causes

Selim II’s daughter, Fatma Sultan (b. 1558): September 1580, after childbirth (maybe complications after a still-birth)

Safiye Sultan (b. ⁓1550): c. 1520, natural causes

Ayşe Sultan (b. ⁓1565): 15 May 1605, most probably illness

Hümaşah Sultan (b. ⁓1565): after 1580, illness or childbirth

Fatma Sultan (b. ⁓1565): c. 1620, natural causes

Murad III’s daughters:

Fahriye Sultan (b. ⁓1588): after 1641, natural causes

Rukiye Sultan (b. ⁓1593): c. 1623, most probably illness or childbirth

Handan Sultan (b. ⁓1570): 9 November 1605, gastric problems

Halime Sultan (b. ⁓1570): after 1623, ?

Kösem Sultan (b. ⁓1590): 2 September 1651, strangled

Hanzade Sultan (b. ⁓1609): 23 September 1650, illness or natural causes

Ayşe Sultan (b. ⁓1605/7): c. 1657, most probably natural causes

Fatma Sultan (b. ⁓1606): c. 1670, most probably natural causes

I. Ahmed’s daughters

Gevherhan Sultan (b. ⁓1605): 1660, natural causes

Abide Sultan (b. 1618): c. 1648, most probably illness (or she lived longer just retired and became forgotten)

Atike Sultan (b. ⁓1614): c. 1670, most probably natural causes

Ayşe Sultan (b. ⁓1610): c. 1680, natural causes

Esmehan Kaya Sultan (b. 1633): 1658, complications after giving birth

IV. Murad’s daughters:

Safiye Sultan (b. 1635):1680, complications after giving birth

Rukiye Sultan (b. ⁓1640): 1696, most probably natural causes

Hanzade Sultan (b. 1631): 1675, most probably natural causes

Turhan Hatice Sultan (b. ⁓1627): 1683, natural causes by some chronical illness.

Fatma Sultan (b. 1642): 1657, illness

Ibrahim I’s daughters:

Gevherhan Sultan (b. 1642): 21 September 1694, long illness

Beyhan Sultan (b. 1645): 5 March 1701, natural causes

Hatice Muazzez Sultan (b. ⁓1627): 12 September 1687, heart attack or stroke

Saliha Dilaşub Sultan (b. ⁓1627): 4 December 1689, long illness maybe cancer

Telli Hümaşah Sultan (b. ⁓1630): c. 1672, most probably illness

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüs Sultan (b. ⁓1642): 6 November 1715, illness

A short discussion about the history and customs of funerals

For a long time, the sultans were the only "inhabitants" of their tomb. In this Murad III made a change, burying his executed siblings next to his father, Selim II. But over time, Murad broke another tradition when he buried his mother, Nurbanu, next to his father in his tomb. For in the past centuries the wifes and consorts of the sultans had not been placed in a tomb with their master, and for a long time not even in their mosque. An early exception to this was Süleyman I's mother Ayşe Hafsa, who was buried in Süleyman I's father's mosque. Over time, Süleyman buried his only wife, Hürrem, in his own mosque in a separate tomb. And later Nurbanu was the first woman to rest right next to her husband in the same tomb. Importantly, however, Murad had already done a similar thing before Nurbanu. When Mihrimah Sultan passed away, knowing how close she was to his father, Murad buried her in Süleyman’s tomb, right next to her father. This is particularly interesting because Mihrimah’s husband Rüstem also had a mosque where Mihrimah could have been buried, but the mosque of Mihrimah’s brothers, the Şehzade Mosque, would also have been suitable for her. All indicate that Murad buried Mihrimah next to his father with a reason, as he later did with his mother and father.

Back to Nurbanu, in her case, another tradition was broken. It was not only in life but in death as well that Nurbanu Sultan enjoyed extraordinary honors. Contrary to the custom whereby the sultan remained in the palace during a funeral, Murad accompanied his mother’s coffin on foot, weeping as he walked, to the mosque of Mehmed the Conqueror, where funeral prayers were said. The choice of the Conqueror’s mosque, the most distant of the sultanic mosques from the imperial palace, ensured both a maximum number of bystanders’ prayers for Nurbanu’s soul and maximum appreciation by the capital’s residents of this display of royal piety and respect for the valide sultan. According to the historian Selaniki, the “whole world” crowded into the mosque for the funeral prayers. For forty days high-ranking statesmen and religious officials were required to pay their respects at the valide sultan’s tomb, while the Qur’an was read continuously. The extraordinary nature of this funeral is suggested by the fact that in the extensive collection of the Topkapı Palace Library, the only miniature that depicts an event in the life of a female member of the dynasty is one illustrating the emergence of Nurbanu Sultan’s funeral cortège from the imperial palace.

*PS: The dates in the lists are not always widely accepted. There are dates of birth and death that historians are still debating to this day. In these cases, I have mentioned the dates I consider most plausible.

Used sources: Leslie Peirce – The imperial harem, Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; Leslie Peirce – Empress of the east; Colin Imber – The Ottoman Empire, 1300-1650; Günhan Börekçi – Factions and Favorites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; Douglas A. Howard – A History of the Ottoman Empire.

* * *

A halál is nagyon komoly részét képezte az Oszmán Birodalomnak, különösen mert rendkívül gyakori volt az erőszakos halál a dinasztia férfitagjai között. Mindannyian ismerjük a testvérgyilkosság törvényét, mely okán több száz herceget (sok esetben csecsemőket, gyermekeket) fojtottak meg a selyemzsineggel. Mai posztomban azonban inkább azokról szeretnék szólni, akik esetében nem ennyire egyértelmű a halál oka, ideje. Néhány érdekes, esetleg gyanús halálesetet hoztam el számotokra, illetve megpróbáltam összeszedni mindent az egyes szultánok, hercegek és szultánák halálának okairól; valamint a temetkezés rövid történetét is elhoztam: kiket hová temettek, mikor álltak be rendhagyó változások a temetkezési szokásokban…

Az általánosságban elmondható, hogy a korai periódus szultánjainak haláláról igen keveset tudunk. Nagyon sok esetben csak találgatások maradtak ránk a halál okáról. I. Murad (u. 1362-1389) halála azonban például egy üdítő kivétel, esetében ugyanis több leírás is készült haláláról. Egy szerb nemes gyilkolta meg tőrrel a Rigómezei csata (1389) alatt vagy előtt. „… teljesen váratlanul egy bizonyos Milos Obilic, aki ravaszságból és cselszövésből azt mondta, hogy felvette az iszlámot, arra kért bennünket, hogy (…)megcsókolja a fénylő nagyúr lábát, ahelyett, hogy ezt tette volna, elháríthatatlanul ruhájába elrejtett mérgezett kést szúrt a fénylő nagyúr dicső testébe, s súlyosan megsebezvén megitatta őt a mártírok serbetjével.” Természetesen nem bizonyos, hogy minden a leírtak szerint történt, az azonban biztos, hogy gyilkosság áldozata lett Milos Obilic keze által.

I. Bayezid (u. 1389-1402) halála maga szintén érdekes, egyesek úgy vélik, hogy öngyilkos lett Timur Lenk (u. 1370-1405) fogságában, miután az, szeme láttára alázta meg feleségét Mariát. Mások szerint megmérgezték a fogság idején. Akárhogyan is, a szultánok halála mindig valami új kezdetét jelentette. Ha a szultán meghalt, nem volt idő gyászolni. Asszonyaiknak, feleségeiknek és a főbb vezíreinek ugyanis más dolga volt a halál beállta után: azonnal értesíteni a koronaherceget, vagy azt a herceget, akit ők maguk a trónon akartak látni. A szultán ugyanis az lett, aki először ért a fővárosba és foglalta el a trónt. A korai időszakban a szultánok gyakran az otthonuktól – a birodalmi fővárostól – távol, hadjárat során hunytak el, így vezíreik voltak azok, akik értesítették a hercegeket a helyzetről. A hercegek pedig mindent megtettek, hogy egymás előbb érhessenek a fővárosba. Ebben pedig sok esetben segítséget is kaptak az őket támogató pasáktól. Így kerülhetett például trónra II. Bayezid (u. 1481-1512) is. Lányait korábban befolyásos pasákhoz adta nőül, vejei pedig mindent megtettek, hogy Bayezid legnagyobb vetélytársát, egyik testvérét lelassíthassák az Isztambulba vezető úton. Sikerrel jártak és Bayezid elfoglalta a trónt, ők pedig megkapták érte jutalmukat.

II. Bayeziddel ellentétben, I. Szulejmán szultán (u. 1520-1566) halálakor nem volt már vetélytársa fiának, II. Szelimnek (u. 1566-1574). Azonban Szulejmán mégis nagyon rossz pillanatban – épp egy csata kellős közepén – hunyt el a köszvénye okozta egészségügyi problémákban. Hogy elkerülje a lázadást és a katonák motivációjának elvesztését, a fővezír a szultán halálát eltitkolta. Szolgálókat öltöztetett be a szultán ruháiba, hasonló kézírású írnokokkal íratott parancsokat a szultán nevében, amíg II. Szelim megérkezett végre a táborba és szultánná lett.

A későbbi periódusokban már a szultán asszonyaié volt a főszerep, hiszen a szultánok egyre gyakrabban hunytak el a fővárosban. Erre egyik különösen érdekes példa II. Szelim halála, mely egy fürdőben történő elcsúszás után érte, és amit felesége Nurbanu szultána (⁓1525-1583) csak a nagyvezírrel osztott meg, és titokban üzentek Nurbanu fiának Muradnak (u. 1574-1595), hogy igyekezzen a fővárosba. Erre azért volt szükség, mert Murad gyermeköccsei a fővárosban tartózkodtak II. Szelim halálakor.

A szultánokat mindig az éppen aktuális birodalmi fővárosban helyezték örök nyugalomra. Bursa, mint korábbi főváros egyébként Isztambul elfoglalása után is fontos szerepet őrzött, ugyanis a kivégzett vagy természetes módon elhunyt hercegeket itt helyezték örök nyugalomra. Természetesen ebben is akadt kivétel, I. Szulejmán (u. 1520-1566) uralkodása alatt rögtön kettő is. Kedvenc fia, Mehmed (1521-1543) betegségben halt meg Manisában, ám a szokásokkal szakítva Szulejmán nem csak, hogy a fővárosban temette el Bursa helyett, de egyenesen szultánokéval vetekedő mecsetet építtetett fia számára. Másik fia, a lázadó Bayezid (1525-1562) kevéssé volt szerencsés. Mivel az iráni határ mellett végezték ki, Szulejmán még a Bursai temetést is megtagadta tőle, és az iráni határ mellett lelt örök nyugalomra fiai mellett. Legkisebb fia, aki csecsemő volt és nem tudott apjával együtt Iránba menekülni, kivégzése után Bursába lett eltemetve a többi hasonló sorsú herceg között.

Mielőtt tovasuhannánk és a szultánákat vennénk górcső alá, itt egy kis összefoglaló a „Nők szultánátusának” időszakából és az azt közvetlenül megelőző időszakból, a szultánok és hercegek halálának okairól, a teljesség igénye nélkül*:

II. Bayezid (sz. 1447): 1512. április 24, feltehetőleg mérgezés, de a természetes halál is felmerül

I. Szelim (sz. 1470): 1520. szeptember 22, feltehetőleg daganatos betegség vagy lépfene, de a mérgezés és pestis is opció

I. Szulejmán (sz. 1494): 1566. szeptember 7, köszvény, de ráadásnak az agyvérzés is felmerült

Şehzade Mahmud (sz. 1512): 1521. október 29, himlő vagy pestis

Şehzade Musztafa (sz. 1515): 1553. október 6, megfojtás

Şehzade Mehmed (sz. 1546): 1553. október 10, megfojtás

Şehzade Ahmed (sz. ?): 1552, betegség

Şehzade Murad (sz. 1519): 1521. október 12, himlő vagy pestis

Şehzade Mehmed (sz. 1521): 1543. november 6, feltehetőleg himlő

Şehzade Abdullah (sz. ⁓1525): c. 1527, talán himlő vagy pestis

Şehzade Bayezid (sz. ⁓1525 ): 1562. július 23, megfojtás

Şehzade Orhan (sz. ⁓1543): 1562. július 23, megfojtás

Şehzade Osman (sz. ⁓1545): 1562. július 23, megfojtás

Şehzade Abdullah (sz. ⁓1548): 1562. július 23, megfojtás

Şehzade Mehmed (sz. ⁓1544): 1562. július 23, megfojtás

Şehzade Murad (sz. ⁓1556): 1562. július 23, megfojtás

Şehzade ? (sz. ⁓1560/1), 1562. július ?, megfojtás

Şehzade Cihangir (sz. 1531): 1553. november 27, krónikus betegségek és valamilyen fertőzés

II. Szelim: 1574. december 12/15, elesést követő fejsérülés

Şehzade Mehmed (sz. ⁓1570): 1573/74, betegség

Şehzade Szulejmán (sz. ⁓1570): 1574. december 22, megfojtás

Şehzade Abdullah (sz. ⁓1570): 1574. december 22, megfojtás

Şehzade Ali (sz. ⁓1572): 1572, születése után

Şehzade Oszmán (sz. ⁓1573/4): 1574. december 22, megfojtás

Şehzade Cihangir (sz. ⁓1573/4): 1574. december 22, megfojtás

III. Murad (sz. 1546): 1595. január 16, természetes okok

Şehzade Szelim (sz. 1567): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Mahmud (sz. 1568): c. 1581, betegség

Şehzade Szulejmán, Cihangir, Ahmed és feltehetőleg más hercegek is: születésük után egyből

Şehzade Abdullah (sz. 1585): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Musztafa (sz. 1585): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Bayezid (sz. 1586): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Cihangir (sz. 1587): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Abdurrahman (sz. ?): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Alemşah (sz. ?): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Aleaddin Davud (sz. ?): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Ali (sz. ?): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Hasan (sz. ?): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Hüseyin (sz. ?): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Ishak (sz. ?): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Murad (sz. ?): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Oszmán (sz. ?): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Ömer (sz. ?): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

Şehzade Yusuf (sz. ?): 1595. január 28, megfojtás

III. Mehmed (sz. 1566): 1603. december 21, természetes okok (egyesek szerint túlsúlyhoz köthető egészségügyi problémák)

Şehzade Szelim (sz. 1585): 1597, betegség

Şehzade Mahmud (sz. 1587): 1603, megfojtás

Şehzade Szulejmán (sz. ?): 1597, betegség

Şehzade Cihangir (sz. ?): 1602, betegség

I. Ahmed (sz. 1590): 1617. november 22, feltehetőleg tífusz vagy gyomorvérzés

Şehzade Mehmed (sz. 1605): 1621. január 12, megfojtás

Şehzade Bayezid (sz. 1612): 1635. július 27, megfojtás

Şehzade Kasim (sz. 1614): 1638. február 17, megfojtás

Şehzade Szulejmán (sz. 1615): 1635. július 27, megfojtás

Şehzade Hasan, Orhan, Selim, Hüseyin, Cihangir és feltehetőleg más hercegek is csecsemőként agy gyermekként

I. Musztafa (sz. ⁓1600): 1639, természetes okok (de az epilepszia is felmerül)

II. Oszmán (sz. 1604): brutális gyilkosság

Şehzade Ömer (sz. 1621): 1622, több opció is létezik: baleset, gyilkosság, betegség, sokk

IV. Murad (sz. 1612): 1640. február 8, májzsugor és feltehetőleg egyéb krónikus betegségek

Rengeteg fia született, ám Evliya Celebi szerint mindannyian gyenge egészséggel születtek, majd haltak meg nem sokkal később. A háttérben egyesek mérgezést sejtenek, de lehetett genetikai betegség is, amely a fiúkat érintette.

I. Ibrahim (sz. 1615): 1648. augusztus 18, megfojtás

Şehzade Murad, Osman, Bayezid, Cihangir gyermekként elhunytak betegség következtében

Şehzade Selim (sz. 1644): 1669, feltehetőleg betegség

IV. Mehmed (sz. 1642): 1693. november 6, természetes okok

II. Szulejmán (sz. 1642): 1691. június 22, teste felduzzadt, kómába esett majd meghalt valamilyen betegségtől

II. Ahmed (sz. 1643): 1695. február 6, természetes okok, de a stressz okozta szívroham/agyvérzés is opció

Különösen ritka, mikor a pontos ok és időpont is rendelkezésünkre áll a szultánák esetében. Az ő életüket elsősorban feljegyzésekből ismerjük, melyek a tulajdonaikat és fizetéseiket listázzák. Így sok esetben csak következtetni tudunk rá, hogy amikor eltűntek a feljegyzésekből, akkor hunyhattak el. Azonban ezek a feljegyzések gyakran hiányosak, előfordul, hogy több évre, évtizedre sincsenek meg, esetleg töredékesek. Emellett a halál okát még ritkábban jegyezték fel. Erre általában onnan tudunk következtetni, hogy született e gyermek, volt e friss házasság a halál idejét közvetlenül megelőzően, volt e esetleg hatalmas járvány a halál ideje alatt? Valamint a befolyásosabb szultánák esetében a történetírók, követek előfordult, hogy feljegyezték a halál feltételezett okát. Ez azonban meglehetősen ritka, ahogy a fejezet alján található listát olvasva is egyértelművé válik.

A szultánok temetése mindig kettős érzéseket váltott ki az emberekből. Egyrészt a temetés napján új szultán trónra lépését ünnepelték, és az új szultán kivégzett testvéröccseit gyászolták. Ezzel szemben a szultánák gyászszertartásai és temetési szokásai sokkal nyugodtabbak voltak, nagyobb figyelmet kaptak ilyen értelemben. Halálukkor a nincsteleneknek gyakran osztottak lelki üdvükért alamizsnát, ételt. Erre például Handan valide szutána (⁓1570-1605) 1605. november 9-i halálát követően temetése remek példa. A velencei követ feljegyezte, hogy milyen hatalmas mennyiségű alamizsnát osztottak szét az emberek között. Emellett egy valide szultána halála és temetése mindig nyilvános gyászszertartáshoz volt köthető, hiszen a nép így ki tudta fejezni együttérzését a szultánnal, aki édesanyját veszítette el ekkor. Ayşe Hafsa (⁓1475-1534), I. Szulejmán édesanyjának halála után például a város több napra gyászba borult. Mindemellett a temetését leíró Celalzade Mustafa serint nagyon hosszú imákkal búcsúztatták, amelyben a legtiszteltebb muszlim asszonyokhoz tették őt hasonlatossá, mint például Mohamed próféta első felesége Hatice, leánya Fatma és harmadik, egyben kedvenc felesége Ayşe: „Nagyon vallásos asszony volt, az igazlelkű cselekedetek asszonya, a tisztaság királynője, korának Haticéje; jótékony intézetek alapítója, korának Fatmája és Ayşéje.”

A szultánák esetében az erőszakos halál helyett a gyermekszülés volt vezető halálok. Sokan a szülésbe haltak bele, mert bár a palota orvosai és bábái a világ legjobbjai voltak, a szülés veszélyes tevékenység volt azokban az időkben. Tény azonban, hogy a nyugati birodalmakhoz képest jóval kevesebb asszony halt bele a szülésbe vagy gyermekágyi lázba az Oszmán Birodalom dinasztiájából. A leghíresebb szüléshez kapcsolódó halál Esmehan Kayáé. Kaya szultána (1633-1658) IV. Murad (u. 1623-1640) leánya volt, aki örökölte apja természetét, sokan őt tartották Murad legméltóbb gyermekének. Legendák szerint Esmehan Kayának megjövendölték még fiatal korában, hogy a szülésbe fog belehalni, emiatt évekig nem engedte közel magához a férjét. Férjével azonban idővel igazi szerelem alakult ki, mely természetesen testileg is beteljesült. Esmehan Kaya két gyermeknek is életet adott, így talán már el is felejtette a jövendölést és fellélegzett. Harmadik gyermeke születésekor azonban komplikációk léptek fel. A placenta nem akart leválni, hiába próbálkoztak különféle tortúrákkal a bábák, így a szülést követően néhány nappal vérmérgezésben elhunyt, borzalmas szenvedések után. Kislánya sem élte túl sokkal. Kaya egyik testvére, Safiye (⁓1540-1580) szintén gyermekszülésbe halt bele.

Azonban nem Kaya és húga volt az egyetlen, hasonló módon halt meg II. Szelim (u. 1566-1574) két leánya is: Fatma szultána (1558-1580), aki kislánya születésébe halt bele a gyermekkel együtt, meglehetősen fiatalon; Esmehan szultána (⁓1545-1585) pedig negyedik gyermeke szülése után fellépő komplikációkba halt bele, fia alig egy hónappal élte túl csupán. Esetében a komplikációknak köze lehetett ahhoz is, hogy a kor szokásaihoz képest viszonylag későn, nagyjából negyven évesen szült. Érdekes egyébként, hogy Szelim másik leánya, Şah (1544-1580) is viszonylag fiatalon hunyt el betegség következtében, így Szelim leányai közül egyedül Gevherhan (⁓1545-1622?) volt az, aki megérte az időskort és feltehetőleg természetes okoktól hunyt el.

Legendák szerint egyébként III. Murad (u. 1574-1595) kedvese, Safiye szultána (⁓1550-1620?) is majdnem belehalt egyik vetélésébe, ám mint tudjuk ő végül túlélte és még sok-sok évig uralkodhatott. Kevésbé volt szerencsés Mahfiruze Hatun (⁓1590-1608/12?), I. Ahmed ágyasa, és legidősebb fiának anyja, aki feltehetőleg szintén a szülésbe halt bele, igaz esetében több alternatíva is felmerült halálának okával kapcsolatban, így többek között a járvány is egy opció esetében.

Érdekes, hogy a szultán kedvencei között még ennél is kevesebb esetet ismerünk, amikor egy ágyas halt bele a szülésbe. Ennek oka azonban feltehetőleg nem az, hogy ilyen nem történt… Hanem az, hogy ha az ágyas belehalt a szülésébe egyszerűen feledésbe merült. Hiszen az átlag ágyasok nem adtak életet nagyszámú gyermeknek, különösen, amíg az egy ágyas – egy herceg szabályt betartották. Így nagy eséllyel, ha belehaltak a szülésbe, akkor vagy nem volt más gyermekük vagy csak leányuk, így kevésbé voltak fontos személyek, kevesebb feljegyzésbe került bele a nevük, majd eltűntek a köztudatból.

„Nők szultánátusának” időszakából szintén összegyűjtöttem a legismertebb szultánák halálának okait és idejét, a teljesség igénye nélkül, hiszen sok szultána kimaradt a listából, mert esetükben sem az évszám, sem az ok nem ismert, sőt sok esetben még neveik sem*:

Ayşe Hafsa szultána (sz. ⁓1475): 1534. március 19, betegség, feltehetőleg agyvérzés vagy daganatos betegség

Beyhan szultána (sz. ⁓1492): c. 1559, valószínűleg természetes okok

Hatice szultána (sz. ⁓1491): ?

Fatma szultána (sz. ⁓1493): 1557, természetes okok vagy betegség

I. Szelim leányai

Hafsa szultána (sz. ⁓1495/1500): 1538. július 10, feltehetőleg betegség

Şah-i Huban szultána (sz. ⁓1500): 1572, természetes okok

Hürrem szultána (sz. ⁓1503): 1558. április 15, feltehetőleg daganatos betegség, maláriával nehezítve

Mihrimah szultána (sz. 1522): 1578. január 25, természetes okok vagy hasonló betegség, mint édesanyjánál

Ayşe Hümaşah (sz. 1541): 1594, természetes okok

Şehzade Mehmed leánya

Hümaşah szultána (sz. 1543): 1582, természetes okok vagy betegség

Fatma Hanimsultan (sz. 1567): 1588. július 29, betegség vagy szülés során fellépő komplikációk

I. Szulejmán kislánya, Raziye szultána (sz. ⁓1515): 1521 októbere, himlő vagy pestis

Mahidevran Hatun (sz. ⁓1500): 1581. február 3, természetes okok

Mahidevran Hatun unokái:

Fatma szultána (sz. ⁓1545): 1577, szülés vagy betegség következtében

Nergiz-şah szultána (sz. ⁓1536): c. 1592, természetes okok vagy betegség

Gülfem Hatun (sz. ⁓1495): 1562, természetes okok vagy gyilkosság

Nurbanu szultána (sz. ⁓1525): 1583. december 7, mérgezés vagy valamilyen hirtelen természetes ok (talán agyvérzés, szívroham)

Esmehan szultána (sz. ⁓1545): 1585. augusztus 8, gyermekszülést követő komplikációk

Şah szultána (sz. 1544): 1580. szeptember, betegség

Gevherhan szultána (sz. ⁓1545): 1604 után, lehetséges, hogy 1622, természetes okok

II. Szelim leánya:

Fatma szultána (sz. 1558): 1580. szeptember, gyermekszülés (valószínűleg komplikációs koraszülés)

Safiye szultána (sz. ⁓1550): c. 1520, természetes okok

Ayşe szultána (sz. ⁓1565): 1605. május 15, feltehetőleg betegség

Hümaşah szultána (sz. ⁓1565): 1580 után, feltehetőleg betegség vagy szülés

Fatma szultána (sz. ⁓1565): c. 1620, természetes okok

III. Murad leánya:

Fahriye szultána (sz. ⁓1588): 1641 után, természetes okok

Rukiye szultána (sz. ⁓1593): c. 1623, feltehetőleg betegség vagy gyermekszülés

Handan szultána (sz. ⁓1570): 1605. november 9, emésztőrendszeri problémák

Halime szultána (sz. ⁓1570): 1623 után, ?

Kösem szultána (sz. ⁓1590): 1651. szeptember 2, megfojtás

Hanzade szultána (sz. ⁓1609): 1650. szeptember 23., betegség vagy természetes okok

Ayşe szultána (sz. ⁓1605/7): c. 1657, feltehetőleg természetes okok

Fatma szultána (sz. ⁓1606): c. 1670, feltehetőleg természetes okok

I. Ahmed leányai

Gevherhan szultána (sz. ⁓1605): 1660, természetes okok

Abide szultána (sz. 1618): c. 1648, feltehetőleg betegség

Atike szultána (sz. ⁓1614): c. 1670, feltehetőleg természetes okok

Ayşe szultána (sz. ⁓1610): c. 1680, természetes okok

Esmehan Kaya szultána (sz. 1633): 1658, szülés után fellépő komplikációk

IV. Murad leányai

Safiye szultána (sz. 1635):1680, szülés után fellépő komplikációk

Rukiye szultána (sz. ⁓1640): 1696, valószínűleg természetes okok

Hanzade (sz. 1631): 1675, valószínűleg természetes okok

Turhan Hatice szultána (sz. ⁓1627): 1683, természetes okok, feltehetőleg betegség következtében

Fatma szultána (sz. 1642): 1657, betegség következtében

Ibrahim leányai:

Gevherhan szultána (sz. 1642): 1694. szeptember 21, hosszas betegség

Beyhan szultána (sz. 1645): 1701. március 5, természetes okok

Hatice Muazzez szultána (sz. ⁓1627): 1687. szeptember 12, feltehetőleg szívroham

Saliha Dilaşub szultána (sz. ⁓1627): 1689. december 4, betegség

Telli Hümaşah szultána (sz. ⁓1630): c. 1672, feltehetőleg betegség

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüs szultána (sz. ⁓1642): 1715. november 6, hosszas betegség után

A temetésekről néhány szó végezetül

A szultánok hosszú ideig türbéjük egyedüli lakó voltak. Ebben III. Murad hozott változást, aki kivégeztetett testvéreit is apja mellé temette. De idővel újabb tradíciót szegett meg Murad, amikor édesanyját, Nurbanut apja mellé temette annak türbéjébe. Korábban ugyanis a szultánok asszonyai nem kerültek a szultánjukkal közös türbébe, sőt sokáig még annak mecsetjében sem temethették el őket. Erre egy korai kivétel I. Szulejmán édesanyja Ayşe Hafsa volt, akit Szulejmán apja mecsetjébe temetett el. Idővel Szulejmán egyetlen feleségét, Hürremet is a saját mecsetjében helyezte örök nyugalomra egy különálló türbébe. Ezekután Nurbanu volt az első asszony, aki közvetlenül férje mellett nyugodhatott. Fontos azonban, hogy Murad már Nurbanu előtt is tett hasonlót. Amikor Mihrimah szultána elhunyt, tudva, hogy a szultána mennyire közel állt édesapjához, Szulejmán türbéjébe temette el, közvetlenül édesapja mellé. Ez különösen érdekes, mert Mihrimah férjének Rüsztemnek is volt mecsetje, ahová Mihrimaht temethették volna, de Mihrimah testvéreinek mecsetje a Şehzade mecset is alkalmas lett volna a szultána számára. Minden jel arra mutat, hogy Murad okkal temette apja mellé Mihrimaht.

Nurbanuhoz visszatérve, esetében még egy tradíció megszakadt. Nurbanu ugyanis nem csak életében viselhetett különleges jogokat, de halálakor is különleges tiszteletben részesült. Fiával való szoros kapcsolata jól ismert mindenki számára, ennek pedig tökéletes megnyilvánulása volt, amikor holtteste elhagyta a Topkapi Palotát. A hagyományok szerint a koporsót befolyásos pasák vitték és kísérték az imahelyre, a szultán pedig ez alatt a palotában maradt gyászolni. Murad azonban nem akarta édesanyját egyedül elengedni, ezért maga ment a koporsó előtt és zokogott. Nurbanu gyászszertartásának helye is érdekes volt, ugyanis Hódító Mehmed mecsetjét választották e célra, ami a legtávolabb feküdt a birodalmi palotától. Ennek célja az volt, hogy a legtöbb ember láthassa a temetést és imádkozhasson a valide szultána lelkiüdvéért. A történész Selaniki szerint az „egész világ” odacsoportosult a mecsetbe a temetési imára. Negyven napig olvastak érte fel a Koránból és negyven napig jártak magas rangú pasák a türbéjéhez. Érdekesség – és ez is jelzi Nurbanu befolyását –, hogy a Topkapi Palota könyvtárában megtalálható az egyelten olyan miniatúra, ami a dinasztia egy nőtagját ábrázolja, ez a miniatúra pedig Nurbanu temetéséről szól.

*UI: A listákban szereplő dátumok nem minden esetben egyezményesek. Vannak olyan születési és halálozási dátumok, melyek esetén a történészek is vitatkoznak mind a mai napig. Ezekben az esetekben az általam leghihetőbbnek vélt dátumot tüntettem fel.

Felhasznált források: Leslie Peirce – The imperial harem, Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; Leslie Peirce – Empress of the east; Colin Imber – The Ottoman Empire, 1300-1650; Günhan Börekçi – Factions and Favorites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; Douglas A. Howard – A History of the Ottoman Empire.

#reallifesultanas #hürrem sultan #hürrem #ayse hafsa sultan #ayse hafsa #süleyman i #fratricide #sultanate of women #death

33 notes · View notes

lobsters-on-their-heads · 6 years ago

Text

Continuing Travels of Cophine, Part 2, Chapt. 10

Disclaimer reminder: I haven't been to the Middle East, so if I've gotten some details wrong, please let me know in a respectful manner. This chapter and the upcoming ones involved some interesting research, and I've tried talking to people who've been there, but of course things slip through sometimes. Let me know!

You can read the entire work from the very beginning here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116799

The night after the party, after a small dinner at Sarah's house, Cosima and Delphine rode with Sarah to the airport as cold evening rain peppered the city. Most of the trip was silent, with Cosima in the front seat and Delphine in the back with their carry-on bags. Delphine had spent most of the day recovering and doing a great unintentional impression of a cartoon sloth, but the after-effects of last night's brownies had worn off by late afternoon, and she was more or less back to her usual self.

As the airport infrastructure came into view, Sarah sniffed loudly and rubbed her nose.

“You gonna be a'right, then?” she asked.

Cosima peeled her face from the passenger side window and blinked at her sister. “Yeah. Yeah, we're gonna be fine. Why?”

“No reason.”

Sarah steered the car towards International Departures and sucked on her teeth.

“We will have personal security from the moment we arrive in Baghdad,” Delphine assured her. “It's a highly reviewed company, personally recommended by our contacts both here and abroad.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sarah rubbed her nose some more and the airport itself came into view. “I would feel a bit better if Helena went along with you, though, to be honest.”

Cosima laughed and imagined Helena following them around the Middle East. Hell, just getting her through airport security would be a trick to write home about. Putting a hand on Sarah's shoulder, Cosima said, “Do not worry about us. We're okay with what we have, and Helena needs to stay here with her boys. And don't go reading too many news stories about the places we're going to, either.”

Sarah laughed. “Not often someone accuses me of reading too much. Anyway, it's not me. It's the kids, reading up on every place you two go off to. I've got Alison on my case, too, telling me every little horror story she sees online –”

“Yes, we've heard,” Delphine cut in. “She's been on our cases, too.”

“She's calmed down recently, though,” Cosima added.

“And Art,” Sarah went on, like the words were being pushed from her body against her will. “He's coming to me every week with some other story he heard from one of the translators about someone's brother getting his head cut off, or somebody's sister being sold off to IS for God knows what. It's not like I just can't listen, Cos.”

The car wound its way into the departures lane and down the alphabet of airlines as everyone thought about what Sarah had said. Aer Lingus, Air Canada, Air France...

“Well,” Cosima said, “just remember, and tell everybody else this, too, that the stuff that makes the news, and the stories people tell, are the exceptions. I mean, yeah, obviously it happens, but not every day. Aid workers go in and out of Iraq and Syria every day without getting any more than a paper cut or a couple of nasty pimples.”

“We're being careful,” Delphine added. “We're being very careful.”

Sarah made a face. “Right.”

Five minutes later, Sarah pulled up to the curb near the Turkish Airlines sign. There were hugs and promises to call once they'd arrived in Baghdad, and as Cosima and Delphine went inside with their suitcases and bags, Sarah leaned against her car and watched them go.

Inside, the check-in process was smooth and the security checks predictable, and when they settled into the airport-standard restaurant close to their terminal, they still had thirty minutes before boarding their plane. They sat sipping water and nibbling on what passed for a “harvest salad,” and Cosima watched the other late-night fliers going by while Delphine did her daily social media Leda check, twelve hours later than she usually did.

“You did yours, then?” she asked Cosima.

“Yeah, at lunch time. You were kinda busy trying to remember that pool noodles aren't sentient, though, so you get a pass.” Cosima kissed Delphine's cheek, then her lips. It would be weeks, or possibly months, before she could that in public again. “You were super cute the whole time, though, fyi.”

Delphine grunted and resumed flipping through status updates of new bikinis, inspirational quotes, and cute babies.

“By the way, didn't Gabriela call you last night?”

“You mean while you were baked out of your mind and climbing all over my sister?”

Delphine looked like she had a retort coming, but just rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

Cosima giggled and squeezed her fiancée's arm to show no ill will. “Yeah, apparently her husband's divorcing her. Guess he was only in it as a monitor, and he was kind of convinced they could have kids, but when that obviously didn't happen, he peaced out.”

“Hm.” If Delphine had any thoughts or comments about being a monitor herself, she kept them to herself. Her thumb hovered over her Facebook feed. “Look at this.”

“What's up?”

The post Delphine pointed to was in Hebrew, and the picture beneath it showed a hand with an IV going into it.

“Oh, shit,” Cosima whispered.

“It's Avigail Chernev,” Delphine said. “One of the Israelis. It's the first time she's posted anything in almost a year.”

Cosima scooted her chair over to get a better view. “Is that her hand? For sure?”

“I assume so. It looks like yours.”

Cosima held her own hand up next to the picture on the phone and squinted. “I'll take your word for that. You are, like, the Leda expert at this point.”

Delphine's eyebrows twitched. “Yes, I suppose I am. You're still my favorite, though.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

Delphine took a screenshot of the Facebook post and emailed it to David Margolis, their Hebrew translator and Israeli cultural guide based back in Toronto. They would translate it themselves, too, with Google, but David's translations were more accurate and nuanced, and he could more easily match up the texts with others he had on file for both Israeli Ledas.

“There's WiFi on the plane, at least,” Delphine went on, “we'll need to monitor this pretty closely.”

Despite the severity of the situation, Cosima smirked. “Did you seriously just say monitor? Even after what I said about Gabriela's husband?”

Delphine stuck her tongue out and copy/ pasted Avigail's status into Google translate. In a second, the English side read Third treatment of the week, here we hope we can cure it soon!

“Third of the week, shit,” Cosima murmured. She pulled up a map of the Middle East on her phone and measured the distance between Baghdad and Tel Aviv. It was a hell of a lot closer than Toronto, but they weren't exactly next door neighbors. And then there was the whole messy political situation.

Meanwhile, Delphine pulled the Europe and the Middle East notebook from her carry-on bag. She flipped through it and tapped her finger on the first Israeli entry.

Avigail Chernev, born 11 June, 1984, in Bet Shemesh, current residence Tel Aviv Monitor as of 2016 – Daniel Fridman Primary care physician as of 2016 – Dr. Joseph Blachar [two msg sent by D.Cormier via D.Margolis, no replies] Social media contacts attempted 21 July, 3 September, and 4 December – no response

Delphine added a line about today's Facebook post on the otherwise empty page that stood in sharp contrast to the information-crowded pages on either side. The page before detailed the medical history and social media habits of Lonah Gerbi, the clone in Haifa they had already made an appointment to treat. Delphine tapped Lonah's page.

“We're not scheduled to be in Israel until the end of May,” she said. “Eight weeks from now.”

“Right, and we scheduled Lonah's treatment after all these other countries for a reason.”

She checked the time. They had fifteen minutes until boarding their plane to Istanbul, where they had a five hour lay-over before flying on to Baghdad. Baghdad, of course, being in one of the many countries with restrictions on travelers who'd had their passports stamped in Israel. Then she looked at Avigail's hand again. Third treatment in one week. Failed treatments, almost certainly, probably radiation or some kind of chemotherapy. The side effects alone probably kept her from working or taking care of her family or whatever else she would have been doing otherwise, and it was quite likely that the treatments had actually hastened the disease's progression, as it had in Jennifer Fitzsimmons.

“She can't wait until May,” Cosima said. “None of the other clones in the Middle East have shown these kinds of symptoms.”

“That we know of.”

She nodded. “That we know of.” Of course. More than once before had a Leda stayed quiet and private right up until she was dying, and only then did Delphine and Cosima hear anything about it. Desperation brought people out of hiding. Or, in the case of Nooran in Djibouti, brought the attention of enough people to point Cosima and Delphine in the right direction.

Delphine was watching her with those big doe eyes, waiting for her to say something, but the decision was obvious.

“I'll email the airline from the plane,” Cosima said. “Change the flight from Istanbul to Tel Aviv instead of Baghdad.”

Delphine's face didn't change, though. She licked her lips. “We still have to cure the others, though. Even if they don't have symptoms, we still have to – ”

“Oh, for sure, we're curing them, too. But we have to get to Avigail first.”

“Yes, but – ”

The airport announcement gong sounded, announcing preboarding to Turkish Airlines Flight XXX bound for Istanbul. They packed up their things, threw away their trash, and went to loiter near the gate with everyone else. At this hour, the crowd of passengers was quiet, mostly businessmen buried in their phones or newspapers.

“What if,” Cosima offered, “we just ask them not to stamp our passports in Tel Aviv?”

Delphine snorted. “Yes, certainly. Have you ever tried telling a passport controller what to do?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well, I don't think it's a very good idea.”

Some of the businessmen looked up from their devices to listen to the only conversation happening, but the announcer called for first class boarding, so Cosima and Delphine hoisted their bags back onto their shoulders and got on the plane.

Once they were in their seats, enjoying the perks of the frequent flyer program, Cosima said, “Maybe someone else can go to Israel. Cure the Israelis, and we finish up the rest of the Middle East.”

“It's an idea,” Delphine agreed.

Cosima pulled out her phone and texted Scott while the coach passengers filed past.

A minute later, though, that idea was shot. I'd love to, he replied, but I can't take that kind of time off work. We have a big project right now.

She swore under her breath but typed, Okay, thx anyway

The faces of Clone Club flashed before her eyes, and she imagined all of them in lab coats in an Israeli clinic, syringe in hand. Art, Sarah, Alison, Helena, ... None of them fit that image. None of them had experience putting needles in people. Well, Helena might, but she probably wasn't used to aiming the needles with the intention of helping, and she had none of the other necessary skills for this endeavor.

She tapped on her phone until the crew directed them to turn off their devices, and held Delphine's hand as Toronto faded away below them. When the city was entirely gone behind clouds, she turned to Delphine and said, “Rachel would do it. She gave me my treatment, and she knows clone stuff.”

“And she is completely inaccessible to anyone who wants to contact her.”

“And there's that. Fuck.”

Once the fasten seatbelt sign was off, they both had their laptops out, emailing everyone on the Clone Club listserv for ideas and support. David Margolis confirmed their translation of Avigail's status and offered to reach out to her in Hebrew for them, which Delphine replied would be very helpful. Delphine posted a notification on the Foundation's website, just in case Rachel happened to be checking in from wherever she was. Cosima's Google searches confirmed that, indeed, for most of the countries they would be traveling to in the next two months, entrance was denied to anyone who'd been to Israel.

After thirty minutes, though, Cosima found herself staring into space at the shadowy clouds moving below them, forgetting what the hell she'd been typing, or starting one sentence and finishing it with another thought entirely. Beside her, Delphine kept trying to hide her yawns.

“It's after midnight,” Cosima said, dropping her head on Delphine's shoulder. “Maybe one of us should get some rest.”

Delphine kissed her forehead. “You go ahead. I'm used to working late.”

“And I'm not, is that what you're saying?”

“Mmm, yes. You work late, of course, but not like this.”

“Not on an airplane.”

“Correct.”

Delphine was right. Something about traveling had this way of knocking Cosima right out. Maybe the sound of a motor, steady total-body vibration, and occasional rocking back and forth made her feel safe, like she was six years old again and her parents were taking care of everything.

When she woke up, the window shade was closed and Delphine's light travel blanket was tucked around her shoulders. To her right, Delphine dozed with her arms across her chest and her head tipped to one side, laptop still open on her tray. The rest of the cabin was bathed in daylight and a flight attendant went down the aisle announcing the last call for beverages or snacks. According to her phone, it was 7:20 in the morning, but when she raised the shade the sun was well above the horizon.

Right. If it was 7:20 am in Toronto, it was 2:20 pm in Istanbul, and they were scheduled to land at 3:15.

She opened her laptop, trying not to jostle Delphine as she checked the clone business email. Five new messages.

Art said he would look into it but made no promises, which could really apply to most of the emails they'd exchanged with him over the past year.

David Margolis forwarded both Cosima and Delphine the email chain with Avigail Chernev, her medical team, and himself. Avigail's primary doctor right now, it said, was a Dr. Ada Bronstein, and both she and Avigail were excited about the possibility of a new treatment option.

There was an email from her mother, linking to an article about a suicide bombing in Basra and begging Cosima to be careful while she was over there.

Her advisor at U Minn sent her a list of epigentics conferences that Cosima “really should consider presenting at.”

And to her surprise, Rebecca Twell replied to Cosima's mass email, saying she was so sorry to hear that another of their identicals was ill, but Rebecca could not take off that kind of time, either, and regardless she did not feel comfortable administering any kind of medical treatment to anyone. She ended her email with a reminder that if and when Cosima and Delphine made it to Scotland, they should absolutely drop by for a pint.

Cosima went back up to the email chain and tapped Dr. Bronstein's number into her phone. That five-hour lay-over coming up in Istanbul was starting to feel awfully short.

At Istanbul Atatürk Airport, they got microwaved sandwiches and juice from Starbucks and found a terminal waiting area with no one else sitting in it, so they could spread out over several seats and the floor, charging everything that needed electricity. Delphine exchanged more emails with David Margolis and Avigail's medical team, and compared her symptoms with notes in the MEDICAL notebook that listed all observed symptoms and treatments with side effects.

Cosima called everyone, starting with Adele. Alphabetical order seemed as good as any order right now.

Adele answered with a dynamic yawn. “Oh, hey, Puddin' Pie, how are you doin'? How's Delphine, more to the point? She back from her brownie trip yet?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's good,” Cosima said. “Did you get our email?”

“Huh? No, I haven't checked yet. Why, what's up?”

While Cosima explained the situation, Adele responded with various “uh huh,” “yeah,” or “well shit.” When Cosima finished, Adele laughed. “Oh, honey, I wish I could help you. I really do. But heroin is the one drug I will never, ever touch. Needles skeeve the hell outta me. I stick to drugs that go into holes my body already has.”

Cosima had not said anything about heroin, but she laughed for Adele's sake and said, “Okay, that's cool. That's, uh, probably for the best, actually.”

“Yeah. Hey, have you tried Colin, though? He's gotta have some skills there, right?”

“Uh, not yet. I don't have his contact info, actually. Do you?”

“No, but you know who does.”

Felix picked up on the third ring. “You want Colin's phone number? What for?”

“For the stuff I emailed you about. Did you get our email?”

“I mean, I skimmed it. I've only been up for about 30 minutes. Why? You still haven't found anybody?”

“No. Colin's, like, potentially our last hope.”

Felix muttered something unintelligible, but a moment later produced the number for her, and listened as she read it back to him. “He won't go, though,” Felix added. “I'm certain of that.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, first of all, he's hates flying. He's only flown once, and that was to Calgary ten years ago. He doesn't even have a passport.”

“He doesn't...?” She had forgotten that people could even exist in the world without a passport. “Wow.”

“So, feel free to call him. Tell him that I'm not pining away in his absence, and that he's much more attractive when his head's not shoved up his own arse.”

“You know, I think I'll let you tell him all of those things, and I'll just stick to clone business, okay?”

She called Colin and left a message, and checked the message that had dinged while she was talking to Felix. A picture greeted her at the tap of her thumb: the main room of Nooran's apartment in Djibouti, with the girls and Mohammed, the younger boy, sitting around a folding table that had not been there when Cosima last visited. On the table were the art supplies Cosima and Delphine had given them, and each of the younger children held up a piece of artwork to show off. Fatima sat the farthest from the camera, and she held a book close to her chest, a smile tugging at her lips. The table wasn't the only new item in the photo – a calendar and a flag decorated the wall, and a drying rack laden with laundry snuck into view in the lower right corner. The cell phone used to take the picture must have been new, too, since the family had not had one before.

While Cosima studied the picture, distracted for a moment from Avigail's troubles in Israel, another message popped up, this time showing Nabil taking a selfie with his siblings in the background. Tapping Delphine to get her attention, Cosima took a picture of them together, Delphine smiling and Cosima making a face, and sent it to the kids.

“They are such good kids,” Cosima remarked. “We gotta see if we can keep helping them out, somehow.”

“Mmhm.” Delphine's attention was already back on the task at hand. “Julian can't go. Neither can any of my other medical contacts, including the doctors we know are aware of the cloning situation. All of them are busy, uninterested, or no longer reachable at their former email addresses. I texted Ali, even, from Tripoli, but he's tied up for the rest of the month, apparently.”

“Why Ali? He doesn't have medical training.”

“No, but I thought maybe he could at least transport the cure to Avigail's doctors for us. They could administer it, I expect, on their own, although I haven't confirmed that with them.”

“Oh, yeah. That is a good idea.” She texted Clone Club back with that idea – not to treat, but to transport. Anyone could do that. Anyone that didn't need to go to any of the Muslim-majority Middle Eastern countries that Cosima and Delphine needed to go to, that is.

Colin called back at 4:23 pm Istanbul time. “I'm sorry, you want me to do what, now?” he asked.

She gave the spiel again. “And you're really our last hope.”

“Why can't you do it?”

“Because once we get an Israeli stamp, all these other countries won't let us in. It's geopolitical bullshit.”

Colin exhaled into the receiver. “I don't think you understood my question. Why can't just one of you go, and the other one go to all the other countries? I mean, there are two of you, right?”

Cosima bit her tongue and pushed her hand into the top of her head. “Well, for starters, all the people we're curing look exactly like me. Haven't you noticed? We're clones. It's gonna be pretty weird for me to look all of them in the eye before treating them.”

There was another heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “And you can't futz your way around that for one dying woman? Wear colored contacts or something? Seems like it'd be pretty easy. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

Felix's last comment about the location of Colin's head came to mind, but Cosima said, “Just trust me. It's not the best idea.”

“Well, I haven't got any other ideas for you. I am not flying to Israel for you. I am not sticking a syringe into a woman I've never met for you. I am not going to deliver biological material that I have not personally inspected to a doctor I've never met for you. I don't even work with the living, remember? I sure as hell don't speak Hebrew.”

“That part really doesn't matter. Think about it, at least?”

“Yeah, maybe. But I'm not changing my mind.”

Just go yourself. She could change her appearance somehow and treat both Israeli Ledas while Delphine was in Iraq, but then Delphine would be in Iraq all by herself. And several weeks after that, Delphine would have to go to Syria all by herself, because Cosima would not be allowed in either of those countries.

Cosima made her way down her contacts lists and called everyone she hadn't already talked to, to see if they or anyone else they knew would be willing to pick up the job. Some people she called again, just in case.

“We'll sort something out,” Sarah assured her after coming up with no new ideas. “I already gave Art a call.”

Cosima even called her mother.

“Oh, Sweetie, I'd love to help,” her mother said, her voice heavy with sleep, “but I am completely unqualified for that kind of work. Even though you know your grandma's been trying to send me to Israel for decades, like with that Birthright program, you know, but for older adults instead of teenagers? Anyway, Israel would be great, but I really just can't go treating someone's illness. I'd probably do it wrong and make everything worse. I'd stick the needle in the wrong organ or something. I work with fish, not people.”

“Well, maybe you could just bring the cure into the country, then? Drop it off and take a week to see the sights.”

“Oh I can't. I'm having bunion surgery tomorrow. Did I tell you that?”

Bunyan surgery. Great. “Uh, no,” Cosima said. “You didn't. How 'bout you send me an email all about it, huh? I have to make some other calls. Unless you think your podiatrist might want to go to Israel for us?”

Sally laughed. “No, but she is Jewish, and I think she's been before. Hey, why don't you just mail it? The treatment, I mean? It's all sealed up, isn't it? You'd have to pay extra, but I don't think that's a big issue.”

Cosima could have kicked herself for not thinking of that earlier, but still, the idea didn't sit well with her. She and Delphine made a point to personally carry the treatment whenever they travelled specifically because they didn't trust anyone else with it. When she floated the idea to Delphine, Delphine's face mimicked her own.

“I mean, it's possible,” Delphine conceded. “But certainly not ideal.”

“I don't know how many other options we have, though.”

She shook her head. “Not very many. None that I like very much. We have a phone conference with Dr. Bronstein in about ten minutes, though, so we can always run it by her, see what she thinks.” Delphine checked her watch and muttered “putain” under her breath before winding the little knob to get in sync with local time. “It's very last minute, of course. I was afraid we might have to wait until tomorrow to talk to her, and, like we've been saying, Avigail doesn't have much time left. Dr. Bronstein seems willing to do whatever it takes, though.”

In the time before their phone conference, Alison called, and after a moment of checking in, repeated Colin's suggestion. “I don't know why you don't just go over there yourself, Cosima. You and Delphine are the only ones who have any experience with this. Put a surgical mask on and no one will notice you look the same.”

Cosima bit her tongue. “So you don't know anyone who could step in and help us out? No one at all?”

“No one who I'm willing to out myself to by sending them to Israel to treat one of my clones, no. Just go! You can rejoin Delphine when she's finished treating all our sisters in those... other countries. Or, you know, like I've been saying all along, you can just split the work and get it all done in half the time.”

“Alison,” Cosima began, “People recognize me. They recognize that I look like other people. Don't you remember how you felt way back when Beth first contacted you, first said you were a clone...”

Delphine nudged her before she could continue. “Dr. Bronstein's calling.”

“Gotta go, Alison. We'll talk soon, yeah?” She hung up before Alison could say anything else, and popped in Delphine's left earbud so she could participate in the conversation without annoying the few other passengers now camping out in the waiting area with them. Cosima took a deep breath to center herself and switch her brain from Sestra mode to professional mode as Delphine gave Dr. Bronstein a warm greeting.

“Yes, hello to both of you,” Dr. Bronstein said with a voice that reminded Cosima of character from Downton Abbey. “It's so felicitous that you've found us. I'm afraid Ms. Chernev's prognosis is quite poor at this point.”

“Yes, that's my understanding, as well,” Delphine said. “She knows that you're in contact with us, yes?”

“Oh yes, I've just spoken with her and her family, and Ms. Chernev has signed the agreement allowing me to discuss her condition with you and your translator, Mr. Margolis. I believe a PDF of the agreement has been emailed to you, as well.”

Cosima didn't see it right away, but considering everything else they were doing to save the Ledas, she wasn't too worried about a single release of information form.

“So, Dr. Bronstein, can you give us another quick run-down of Avigail's symptoms and prognosis so far?” she said.

“Well, she's been in my care for almost two years,” Dr. Bronstein told them, “starting with lung polyps that remain and have no clear cause.” She went on to give every symptom of the disease, and all the attempted treatments. Avigail had had numerous seizures that resisted the effects of anti-convulsant medications, and she'd been on oxygen full-time for the past year. Her doctors had tried every treatment that Cosima would expect them to and then some. Avigail had lost her hair and now weighed only forty-one kilograms. Her vision was spotty, She had difficulty swallowing. She was jaundiced. Her kidneys failed almost a year ago, and she was on dialysis, but the rest of her health conditions kept her off the kidney transplant list.

“Anyway,” Dr. Bronstein concluded, “I don't know exactly how you've found us, but any help you can offer is incredibly welcome. We don't know how much time she has left, since we've never seen something like this before, but, well, to be honest, it might not be very much time at all. Her family's been advised to help her get her things in order.”

Cosima hung on every word Dr. Bronstein said, picturing the cells and tissues and organs, and the woman lying on the hospital bed. “Third treatment this week,” she'd said, just that morning, on her Facebook page. The understatement of the century, it seemed. If nothing else, Avigail's attitude seemed positive.

“I'm glad she has her family with her,” Cosima said.

While Dr. Bronstein gave a standard sort of agreement, Delphine put her arm around Cosima's waist and held her tight, until an airport employee walked by and gave them a double take, and Cosima scooted away. On her own cell phone she typed We're in Turkey again, babe and showed it to Delphine. There could be no public displays of affection here.

“So, Dr. Bronstein,” Cosima said, “we've actually seen this condition a few times before, and we're very interested in treating Avigail if she'll let us, but, um –”

“Yes, that's what your colleague said in her email. How soon can you get here?” She laughed, and Cosima had a mental image of large front teeth.

“Well, that's just the thing,” Cosima began. “We'd love to get there as soon as possible, but –”

“–but we're also going to a lot of other countries in the region,” Delphine finished when Cosima's hand flapping indicated she needed help.

“I see,” Dr. Bronstein said.

“For the same purpose,” Delphine went on, “and our understanding is that we're not allowed into those countries after we've been to Israel.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Cosima and Delphine exchanged a long look. In her research, Cosima had run across another interesting fact – people who visited Palestine were occasionally not allowed to enter Israel, unless they were Israeli citizens. She'd made a mental note of that and moved on, since they didn't plan to visit Palestine, but now she dredged it back out.

“For what it's worth, Dr. Bronstein, we're traveling exclusively for medical purposes. We really have no interest in anyone's political positions. We just want to cure these women. And, again, for whatever it's worth, we are not planning to go to Palestine. We haven't heard of any patients there with this condition.”

“Oh! Hahaha...” Dr. Bronstein chuckled. “No, no, I was thinking more of our patient here. You see, I've reached out to other doctors, and no one has any idea, either, so I'm simply surprised, ehm, surprised that you've had so much experience. That's all. And, worried, quite frankly. I am quite worried about what will happen if she is not treated soon.”

“Well, we have the treatment with us,” Delphine said. “We could send it to you.”

“With you? As in...?”

“As in, we're sitting next to it right now,” Cosima said. “But we're worried that if we bring it over, we won't be allowed into some of the other countries that we really need to get into.”

“I see. Well, one of you could come and the other could go to the other countries. Or not?”

That idea again. The worst part was that it was right. It would be the easiest solution. It would also be the absolute worst one.

“Yes,” Delphine acknowledged, “that is one of our possibilities, but we'd prefer not to travel alone if at all possible. I'm sure you understand.”

“Well, where else are you going, exactly?”

Delphine pulled up the itinerary she had save on her laptop. “Iraq, later today. Iran, Kuwait, Turkey, Lebanon, Syria...” Below Syria on the list were Jordan and Israel, followed by the European countries, but the noises Dr. Bronstein was making on the other end of the phone interrupted that flow.

“You're going to Syria?” Dr. Bronstein exclaimed. “Have you really found a patient there in such dire straights that you must absolutely go into that blazing inferno to treat them?”

Dire straights was putting it rather dramatically for most of the Ledas at the moment, since less than twenty percent had developed visible symptoms, but that was beside the point. “Yes,” Delphine said. “We have. She may have more time than Avigail, but we don't know how much.”

“Well, you certainly are dedicated,” Dr. Bronstein said. “You're not going to Jordan, then? It's a bit more peaceful.

“We are,” Cosima said. “After Syria.”

“I see. I was going to tell you that entering Jordan and Egypt is often easier after a trip to Israel than some of the other countries are, so you may consider going there instead.”

Cosima leaned her head back against the wall. That was not the point. “We'll keep that in mind, thank you.”

“About our other suggestion, though,” Delphine said, “about us mailing you the treatments. There would be five vials, all properly secured, with extensive instructions --”

“Erm, I don't know about that. You've administered this treatment to other women, you say?”

“Yes, more than a hundred of them.”

“Oh! Well, I can't think of anyone better qualified, then, to administer than yourself. I wouldn't feel completely comfortable no matter how extensive your instructions are, if I knew that there was someone better qualified to do it. And I assure you, Tel Aviv is quite safe. You don't need to worry about traveling alone here.”

Dr. Bronstein probably had a reassuring smile on her face, but Cosima's stomach continued the drop it had started twelve hours earlier. If Avigail's main doctor did not want to give her the cure herself, there wasn't much chance anyone else over there would, either.

“And if you're worried about the stamp,” the doctor went on, “I'm told that many tourists don't get their passports stamped at all. They have this little piece of paper they stamp for you instead. You can throw that away once you've left the country, if you like.”

Cosima and Delphine looked at each other. That changed everything. “Really?” Cosima asked.

“That's what I've been told. I'm a citizen, myself, so of course I've never been in that position.”

“It's worth a try,” Delphine said.

“Can we expect a visit, then?” Dr. Bronstein asked.

“We, euh, we need a few minutes to discuss it, privately,” Delphine told her. “May we call you back?”

“Of course. This is my mobile, so it shouldn't be any trouble.”

They got off the phone, and Cosima started pacing around. “If they just don't stamp it for anyone, we've been pulling our hair out for nothing. Not that I'm complaining, but, it would be suspiciously convenient.”

Delphine tapped away at her keyboard, then her eyes darted back and forth. “Other travelers back it up, actually.”

“Shit, we should've just put that in our Google search first. Here I was trying to see if I could tear the page out of my passport without anyone getting suspicious.”

Delphine leaned back against the wall, fingers resting on her keyboard. “You want to be the one to go, then?”

“I think it makes the most sense.”

Delphine nodded. “I agree. Just in case, you know.”

“In case they don't let me in anywhere else, after all. Which is still a possibility, I think.”

“I think so, too, but I don't know how much of one.”

Cosima thought of everything Dr. Bronstein had said about Avigail, about how she seemed to be staying alive out of sheet pluck while her body fell apart all around her. In the end, there really had been only one solution – this one. “Go ahead and call her back,” she told Delphine. “I can be there by tomorrow morning.”

A few hours later, after a visit to the ticketing agent, a phone call with Alison, two more phone calls and an email with Dr. Bronstein, and repacking of their carry-on bags, they stood together just outside the terminal for Delphine's departing flight to Baghdad, which she would take alone. Cosima's flight to Tel Aviv left in two more hours. Outside the terminal windows, the sun had set almost an hour ago, and each of them had several more waking hours ahead of them.

“Try to get some rest where you can,” Delphine told her. “You won't do Avigail any good if you're exhausted.”

“Yeah, I could say the same for you.”

“I have a little more time. The appointment isn't for another twenty-five hours.”

“Yeah, but you have to get to it.”

Outside on the tarmac, Delphine's Turkish Airlines plane pulled up to the extendable passenger bridge. Before it began discharging passengers, Cosima nudged Delphine and gestured towards the women's bathroom.

“Come on. Last chance for a little while.”

Delphine followed her into the largest stall and giggled as Cosima locked the door behind them. “You want to have sex in the bathroom? In ten minutes?”

Cosima made a face. “Not sex, no. Not smelling like this. Just...” She draped her arms around Delphine's neck and pulled her down for a long kiss. They stood together holding each other and kissing until passengers flooded the bathroom with their chatter, their laughter, their complaints, and a couple instances of explosive releases.

“I just wanted to kiss you again,” Cosima said. “It's gonna be a couple days till I can do it again.”

Delphine cupped Cosima's face in her left hand, stroking her earlobe with her pinky finger. “It's just a couple of days. I'll text you when I land, yeah?”

“Yeah. Same. I'll... I'll keep you abreast of all affairs.” Her terrible attempt at imitating Dr. Bronstein's accent made Delphine break into giggles again, but their moment was cut short by knocks on the stall door.

“We have to go,” Delphine whispered. She peppered Cosima's face with kisses and told her how much she loved her.

“I love you, too,” Cosima said, just before the knocking resumed with a bit more force. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will, I promise. You, as well.”

When they opened the door, they were greeted by a stout cleaning lady and a couple of curious travelers, all of whom expressed some version of “oh!” Delphine gave them her best smile and a cheery “Bonsoir!” as she and Cosima maneuvered their way through the people and back out into the main terminal.

And like every other flight they'd taken in this part of the world, Cosima did not hold Delphine's hand in the boarding line, or rest her head on Delphine's shoulder. For those other flights, though, Cosima had still been beside her, and now she wasn't. She stood by the departures board and watched her fiancée move through the line of almost exclusively Middle Eastern travelers and get her ticket checked. Just before rounding the corner onto the passenger bridge, Delphine turned and paused. She smiled and gave Cosima a tiny air kiss, then made her way down the hall and out of sight.

* * *

Four hours later, standing in line at Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv, Cosima flicked through her messages. Delphine had arrived safely in Baghdad an hour before and was suitably exhausted. She said the security escort was working out fine. Cosima texted her love and sent another message to Dr. Bronstein saying that she was waiting for passport control.

Wonderful! Dr. Bronstein replied. I will retrieve you personally and deliver you to our guest house. I am the tall thin woman in the burgundy jacket, but I also have your name on a sign, so we should have no trouble at all finding each other.

In the next message, Alison assured her that “the Jewish family who lives down the street” had been to Israel and never gotten their passports stamped in Tel Aviv, and they'd never had an issue visiting any other countries. She did not, however, specify which other countries they had tried to visit. See? Alison went on, I told you this would work out just fine.

Scott texted her that one of his Muslim coworkers had tried visiting Israel a few years ago, but got turned away at the border with Jordan. But that shouldn't be a problem for you, Scott said.

The line inched forward. A baby cried. A man bragged to a woman about the ultra marathon he'd run in Israel last year. A little boy whined about being hungry. And Cosima swayed on her feet with no one to lean against.

It was after one in the morning when Cosima finally reached the passport control window. She gave the uniformed man behind the glass her best smile and handed over her passport, open to the picture page.

“Miss Niehaus?” he clarified, winning top marks as one of very few people who got the pronunciation right on the first try. He spent longer than any other passport official ever had comparing her face to her picture, confirmed her date of birth and residence, and asked how long she planned to stay in Israel.

“Two weeks,” she said. They'd made the mistake way back in Ecuador of being vague but honest about how long they would stay, so now they gave a nice firm, if wrong, time frame right up front. He nodded and began flipping through the passport, slowing down after a few fully-stamped pages.

“Um, actually,” she said, “I was wondering if I could get one of those stamps pieces of paper instead?”

He glanced up at her and resumed his exploration of her travel history. “You go a lot of places, Miss Niehaus.”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

He clucked his tongue. “Very many places. Mexico. Argentina. Oman. Libya. Saudi Arabia.” He looked up at her with a frown. “And you have visas for Iran, Syria, and Iraq. You plan to visit them later?”

��Yes, well, you see, that's why I'm kind of hoping you might stamp a different paper instead, because they might not let me in if I have your stamp, and well, you know.” She smiled and held up her hands in a “what're you gonna do” gesture, to show that it wasn't his fault politics were all fucked up.

He did not smile. He leaned over, picked up the phone receiver, and mumbled into it. When he hung up, he gestured for Cosima to step to the left. “Stand aside, please, Miss Niehaus.”

“Oh. Okay, sure. Um, can I have my –”

The officer handed her passport to a tall man in a gray uniform who approached and looked her up and down, one hand on the strap of his rifle.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered.

The room they took her to was tiny, with a long table on one side and two metal chairs on the other. A uniformed woman directed her to remove her boots, jacket, belt, and all of her jewelry. She then gave Cosima the most thorough pat down Cosima had gotten from anyone other than Delphine. While that went on, an middle aged woman (Soldier? Guard? Border officer?) sat in one of the metal chairs. The man who'd taken Cosima's passport placed her bags on the long table, and he handed the passport to the second woman, who set a recorder with a blinking red light on the table.

“Sit,” the woman told Cosima. “Take your hair down.”

Cosima did so, and the younger woman worked her fingers down the length of every one of Cosima's dreadlocks.

“It's okay, I left the explosive hair pins at home,” Cosima snarked when the hair inspection was about halfway done.

The younger woman paused for a moment. “No jokes, please.”

So Cosima sat quietly while the man opened up her bags, setting the electronics to one side, and the older woman looked through her passport. Maybe it was her exhaustion seeping through, but the more she watched them working, the more they reminded her of General Leia Organa and Kylo Ren from the new Star Wars movies.

The officer Cosima now mentally called General Organa began the conversation. “So Miss Niehaus, what brings you to Israel?”

She had practiced professional answer for that. “It's a medical trip. There's a patient here who's arranged for us, I mean, for me to come and treat her.”

“What's the patient's name?”

“Uh, that's confidential. Patient confidentially's very important to us.”

“Who's us?”

“The Sadler and Daughter's Foundation. Their information is on a card in my purse.”

The Kylo Ren guard emptied her purse onto the table and fished around in her things until he got the little stack of business cards, which he handed to the General.

General Organa arched an eyebrow. “So you're based in Toronto, but hold a US passport. Where will you be treating this patient?”

“At the Tel Aviv Medical Center.” When the General put the cards back on the table, Cosima added, “I have an appointment there first thing in the morning, and our patient's life really depends on me being there.”

As if on cue, Cosima's phone rang, vibrating its way in a little circle on the metal table next to her laptop.

“That's probably my contact at the hospital,” Cosima said. “She was supposed to pick me up here.”

No one moved to hand her the phone, but they waited until it stopped ringing to speak again. “And who is this contact?” the General asked.

That part was not exactly confidential. “Dr. Ada Bronstein. I can give you her contact information.”

“Please do. We also need to search your email addresses and your mobile phone.”

“Excuse me?”

“Failure to comply will jeopardize your chances of entering the country.” The General gestured to the male guard, who handed the laptop and the cell phone over to Cosima.

“Unlock these,” he said.

Unlocking her phone, she saw that, indeed, Dr. Bronstein had called her, and sent a text message inquiring about her whereabouts. “Can I just respond to these real quick?” Cosima asked.

General Organa frowned up at her, but did not say no, so Cosima sent a quick text. They're asking me a lot of questions. Then the young female guard took her cell phone and the General took her laptop. While they poked and prodded, Kylo Ren continued his search of Cosima's carry-on bag.

“I hope you like all the pictures of my fiancée,” Cosima muttered to the guard scrolling through her cell phone.

There was no reaction from the guards to her statement. Kylo Ren, though, held up the case containing the Avigail's cure, and Cosima sat bolt upright.

“What's this?” he asked.

“That's the medicine we use to treat people.”

“What is the chemical composition?”

At this point, it must have been close to two o'clock in the morning local time. Cosima's hands and legs were trembling, and biting her tongue got harder with every question they asked. Still, miraculously, she did not give the chemical composition as “the cum I scraped off your mom's face last night, bitch” but rather gave the actual breakdown of materials in each vial. The guard's face glazed over after five words or so, but the little recorder on the desk blinked away, and someone listening certainly knew what she was talking about.

“Where was it manufactured?” Kylo Ren asked.

“Toronto, Canada.”

“Where exactly?”

“The basement of a comic book shop. The Rabbit Hole.” She waved at her laptop. “Look it up. There's a picture of it on our Foundation's website.”

General Organa leaned forward on her chair. “You have been asked a serious question, Ms. Niehaus. If you wish to enter the country, I strongly suggest that you take this process seriously.”

Cosima's voice trembled and she dug her fingers into her palms. “Dude, I am as a serious as a fucking heart attack. There is a woman here in Tel Aviv who needs that medicine to survive. You can call her doctor if you don't believe me. Her number is in my phone.”

“That won't be necessary.”

Cosima bit her lip and struggled not to cry. She was in the habit of not drinking much in the last hour of any plane ride, in case she couldn't use a bathroom anytime soon after landing. The habit came in handy now, but her throat was dry and the blood vessels in her head throbbed, and crying wouldn't make any of that better. She took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Can I at least know why you're holding me? Or, like, your names or anything? Badge numbers?”

In college, when she participated in far more political protests, she'd had the whole spiel of what to say to cops memorized. But that was years ago, and she hadn't been exhausted or desperate to save someone else's life.

The young female guard came around in front of her and held Cosima's phone up so the screen was a foot away from Cosima's nose. “Who are they?” she demanded.

Cosima put her glasses back on to see the picture of Nabil and his siblings around their new kitchen table. “Friends. Their aunt is a friend of mine.”

The guard handed the phone to her superior and looked down at Cosima with a face that had switched from professional indifference to outright contempt. “Where are they?”

“Djibouti. Why, you wanna call them, too? Wake them up in the middle of the night?”

The General's body language also changed when she saw the picture. “How do you know these children?”

“I just told you, they're my friend's nieces and nephews.”

“What friend?”

“A friend in Djibouti. She was also a patient of mine, and the kids are in her custody.”

The General shoved the image closer to Cosima's face. “Those children are not Djiboutian. They are Arab.”

If she had been less tired, Cosima would have rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you got me, they're from Yemen. They're refugees. You might be aware that there's a bit of a refugee situation, like, fucking, globally right now, right?”

“Well, that's a bit closer to the truth, finally.” The General pointed to Nabil's selfie, not to his smiling face but to the wall of their apartment, where a green flag with white swords decorated the drab brown and gray. “What symbol is that, Ms. Niehaus?”

“I...” She looked again, with the feeling of being dropped into the most important geography pop quiz of her life. The flag looked Saudi Arabian, but the swords pointed up more, and there was a book between the sword tips that wasn't present on the Saudi flag. The flag wasn't Djiboutian, Egyptian, Algerian, or any other country she recognized, either. “I have no fucking clue. I'm sure you have a specialist somewhere in Tel Aviv who can answer that question for you, though.”

“Smart ass,” Kylo Ren muttered, shaking out her underwear once piece at a time.

“Ms. Niehaus,” the General said, “I suggest you give us a very good explanation for this photo, right away, or I shall have to deny your entry into our country, not only for today, but for the next ten years at the very least.”

Tears fell from Cosima's eyes before she could speak. So much for not crying. “What the fucking hell,” she whispered into her hands. “Please,” she said, looking at the General and opening crying now, “they're just kids. They're good kids. Their parents are dead. I don't know what the flag means. They probably don't know, either. For fuck's sake half of them can barely read! This has nothing to do with Israel, or, or with anything else! Just let me cure my patient and leave! Then I swear to God I'll stay away for the next ten years or forever if you want me to!”

General Organa might have said more, but the door opened and a trim young officer stepped in and addressed her in Hebrew.

They stepped out together, leaving Cosima with her guards, staring at her belongings scattered across the table and quietly sobbing. Delphine would have been out of here by now. She would have said just the right things, had just the right whatever-the-fuck, and they would have let her in the country with no problems. But now, hopefully, Delphine was sleeping peacefully in a hotel bed, in a country that everyone had told them not to go into, and Cosima was this close to being denied entry into what Alison called “the only civilized country in the Middle East.”

Cosima had almost dozed off on the little metal chair when the door opened again and the General came in with Cosima's passport in her hand and a scowl on her face. “You're very lucky, Ms. Niehaus. We've been instructed to let you into the country without further delay. Get your things together, please.”

Keenly aware of the guns still pointed not exactly at her but certainly not away from her, Cosima stuffed everything back into her bags, only taking any care with her cell phone, her laptop, and the cure. She asked no questions and made no comments. Once she was finished, she turned and held out her hand for her passport, but instead, the guards led her back around to the passport control desk.

“Dr. Bronstein will meet you through those doors,” the General said, her voice dripping with disdain. Then she cut in front of the other people waiting to get into the country, went into the passport control booth, and stamped Cosima's passport with the Israeli travel visa.

#continuing travels of cophine #cophine fanfiction #cophine fanfic #orphan black fanfiction #fictional depiction of israel

22 notes · View notes

barbertop · 7 years ago

Text

Myths & Facts about TOP’s legal issues, Part I

(Part II, Part III, Part IV)

HI! So, I’ve noticed that international kpop fans believe a lot of myths about South Korea's criminal justice system and about TOP’s case specifically. The post below debunks just a few of them. There are more which I may get to in another post.

Myth: YGE uses "corruption" gets their artists out of legal trouble, and this is the only reason that TOP is not in jail right now.

Fact:

YGE doesn’t have the pull it was once alleged to have had.

The first thing we should note is that "corruption" is not a magic wand, and neither is money. We need to be specific about what we actually mean by “corruption”: In YGE's case it has been alleged that the company had connections with the previous administration headed by Park Geun-Hye. There are two main allegations, both of which YGE has denied:

Park Geun-Hye's friend Choi Soon-Sil used her connection to the government to get her niece a job with YGE and to associate with YGE celebrities. (source)

YGE would leak gossip about its artists during times when the Park administration was getting bad press in order to distract the public. In exchange, the administration put political pressure on police and media to bury other negative stories or criminal charges for YGE artists. (source pending)

But they're not in power anymore. Park is currently in prison, serving a 3 year sentence on corruption-related charges (source). There are no allegations that YGE has similar pull with the new administration, headed by Moon Jae-In. Rather than assist TOP, the current government has actually taken advantage of the outrage over his case to advance their own policy goal of dismantling the conscripted police service altogether (source).

The "corruption" thing also just doesn't pass the sniff test: If YGE was that powerful, how the hell did TOP get charged in the first place, let alone convicted? Which leads us to...

Myth: Regular South Koreans are normally given non-suspended prison sentences for using cannabis, and TOP's celebrity is the only reason he's not behind bars right now. He got a lighter sentence because he's famous.

Fact:

Punishments for cannabis use in South Korea have actually been getting less harsh over time, and a suspended sentence is typical (source).

TOP's sentence is a 10-month prison term, suspended two years. The important points to make here:

This is on the harsher end of what is precedent in South Korea for cannabis use with no prior history. (source - chart on p. 9)

The prosecution got literally every single thing they asked for. This is not typical. Neither plea bargaining nor joint sentencing are used in South Korea’s justice system, so a judge usually negotiates a sentence between what the defence and prosecution recommend (in TOP's case, the defence lawyer recommended a fine). This is especially the case with a guilty plea, which TOP gave. (source pending)

The judge specifically mentioned TOP's celebrity as an aggravating factor (reason the sentence should be harsher) in his sentencing (source)

Myth: TOP was sentenced to probation

Fact:

TOP has absolutely received a prison sentence, though it is unlikely he will ever have to serve it. A suspended sentence works like this: the judge basically says, "I sentence you to [time] in prison. Usually, people are expected to begin serving their sentence right away, but I will pause the start of your sentence for two years. If you do not break the law again within those two years, I will dismiss your prison sentence. If you do break the law, I will un-pause the start time and you will have to begin serving it immediately." The key thing to remember with a suspended sentence is that the probation is not the punishment. The prison sentence is. The probation period is the opportunity for the offender to prove they don't need to serve the prison sentence to be reformed.

So: as of right now TOP is scheduled to begin a 10-month prison sentence on July 20th, 2019. His criminal record will reflect that fact until his probation ends and a judge dismisses the sentence.

Myth: South Korean culture has always been anti-cannabis and kpop fans need to respect this.

Fact:

What is considered “culturally taboo” shifts and changes all the time. Cannabis use was common and accepted in South Korea before the 1970s. South Korea’s modern drug laws and atittudes exist because of a deliberate campaign by a dictator who was working under American influence (source).

Lastly: do folks really believe that "culture" should be above criticism? Like actually? After TOP was hospitalized, I don't think anyone got smug about "respecting Korea's culture" re: mental illness. The opposite happened. There is always lots of talk from international kpop fans about the urgency with which South Korea’s "culture" must change on homophobia, mental illness, racism, etc. What makes South Korean culture and law regarding drug use different to these fans? Especially given the extent that drug use intersects with the above social factors and how drug laws are used to criminalize folks for being poor/mentally ill/queer/black. International kpop fans should reflect on why they are against South Korea’s social conservatism overall yet think it's intolerant to criticize their drug laws.

#t.o.p #bigbang #kpop #TOP's legal stuff

170 notes · View notes

sawcolor91-blog · 6 years ago

Text

hello?

Is blogging still a thing? I wouldn't know.....it's been a while, hasn't it? This corner of the Internet has been dark for so long I may have forgotten what I'm doing, and I often wonder, why write? Who is reading--and who cares what I have to say? Why have I been putting myself out there for so long?

My second semester of nursing school brought with it paper after paper--millions of words written late at night on mostly-boring subjects, all of which had to be carefully formatted and cited--two things that will eventually suck the soul right out of a girl. Every corrected paper came back the same--top marks for research, presentation, flow, grammar, a bunch of other boring technical stuff (except my in-text citations--I've decided I really hate APA format), and always a comment scribbled large in red, "but I can still hear your voice". So I tried my hardest to write like a robot, presenting only facts stripped of all creative thought. And finally, after enough papers, I feel like they finally stifled my voice.

The last few months I've had ideas fill my brain--it's always overflowing--usually late at night or when I'm out on the trail. I'll jot down a note on my phone or in a little journal I have, but I can't seem to turn them into anything more than just a thought. They sit there like seeds that haven't been watered. I've slowly started sorting through some of those seeds, seeing if I could make sense of them--taking time to water and find a warm spot in the sun so they can grow.

So I've been writing a little here and there--in the quiet hours of the morning, and slowly piecing together thoughts to share again. This space is so outdated and dusty--links are old and broken, there are many questions unanswered, I know. Sometimes I feel like torching the place and starting fresh.....but for now, here's a very brief update from the last 6 months. If you follow along on my instagram (@_sheenarae) then nothing is probably new to you, but for the rest of you, I present to you:

January-June 2016 (abridged version)

January.

Started the year in Montana, atop a frosty butte. A new semester. Hospital clinicals--placed some IVs, pulled some staples, changed bandages on an amputated leg. Watched people come out of anesthesia which is super entertaining! Gave an enema on my birthday. Yeah--I turned 33, it wasn't my favorite birthday this year--the winter was long and dark and I was like, "HOW DID I GET SO OLD?!" We climbed a lot at the gym, went south for a weekend to get on some real rock, and took advantage of all the snow--the kids are skiing like champs!

February.

uhhhhh......haha I can't remember much. I think there was.....snow? My head was buried in those aforementioned papers. I played weekly pond hockey with some awesome mamas in the valley. Traded my running shoes for cross country skis. We headed south again for an icy cold campout (like frost on my sleeping bag in the morning, icy cold). Jonah got glasses. Climbed some more....

March.

Clinicals at the State Mental Hospital--I learned aLOT.....but I'm glad that's over with--phew! Robby and I took a weekend date down to St. George (more on that later). I teamed up with my friend Mike Butler and he got me lifting weights and eating waaaaayyyyyy more protein. I have been a pretty scrawny runt my whole life and I've been working hard these last few months to get stronger so I could improve my climbing--it's working! (Mike is awesome by the way if you want to reach out to him for your own weight loss/weight gain program, check out his website!) So yeah, lots of weights, more paper writing, tests. Easter was in March so I got dressed and did my hair--go me!

April.

I took an online Statistics class that I kind of forgot to pay attention to (I need deadlines), so April was all about learning what Statistics is (still don't know), so I could ace my final and be done with it forever (did it!) Jonah turned 11 (how?!) We got some more baby chicks. I stressed out over finals. We ran away to the desert again and ate at my very favorite restaurant in the whole wide world.

May.

I finished my first year of nursing school and didn't die! I've been out of school since early May--and it's been the BEST! I started my pre-requisites for nursing school in January 2014 and have not had a lot of time off since. The first summer I had a few classes, and then last summer I had to take my TEAS test to try and get into my program, and then I had to apply, interview, stress stress stress. Then I got IN, and had exactly one million things to do over the summer to get ready for school to start--it never felt like a true vacation with all the deadlines weighing me down. So these last few summer weeks have been nothing short of the best days ever. I've been running, biking, climbing, camping, trying to keep the weeds from taking over my garden (it's impossible), and just hanging out with my family. Robby and I see each other again--our school/work schedules were so conflicting I felt like we would sometimes just wave in passing, but now we even go on real live dates.

June.

Kids out of school! We've been to the desert, I took the kids to Montana, and we are loving summer evenings outside. Lucy got her cast off from her broken arm in May--she also turned NINE!

Biking is fun, and so are strangers who forgot to say "look here" when they take the photo. I forgot how much I love zipping through the trees on my bike.

Backyard jam sessions....

Early morning climbs with my girls....

....and now, we are ready for July! Consider yourself officially updated, and maybe next time I'll dive into those seeds I have growing.

Thanks to the one person (mom) who read through this! Talk soon

*I have so many unanswered comments on here--sorry about that! I really have not been around. I also have over 3000 unread emails.....whoops. While most of them are ads and what not, some of them are from YOU GUYS, and I'm sorry, I've just had to really prioritize my life this past little while and all things internet-involved are pretty far down my list. Thanks for always being here though!

*I get lots of questions about why I'm not posting recipes anymore. We really keep our meals pretty simple and most of what we eat is already on my blog. I just haven't had any extra time to develop anything new, let alone take pictures of it. When in doubt, make eggs!

*I always get such a great response when I post the gear we love and use--I will continue to do that, and I apologize for old links that may not be taking you where you want to go. I will try to get an updated gear list for you soon!

*If I get enough questions on this post, I can do another Q&A post like I've done in the past.

SaveSave

Source: http://inthelittleredhouse.blogspot.com/2016/06/hello.html

0 notes

k2kid · 6 years ago

Text

This is the last of a 4-part series of the analysis of articles relating to Private Frederick Hodson, who served with the 18th Battalion. Special thanks to Annette Fulford (@avidgenie) Lizbet Tobin, and Sharon Munro for assistance with this article.

Private Frederick Hodson, M.M. of the 18th Battalion.

Hodson is well established in England, as his visits during his leaves attest. His wife and daughter are resident at the family home in Rushden and was now getting to experience his second at total of four leaves he was granted during his tour of duty with the CEF. He has earned the Military Medal for actions leading from the attack by the 18th Battalion as part of the 2nd Division CEF attempt to take Flers-Courcelette. The outcome of that action of September 15 and 16, 1916 resulted in his actions as a stretcher-bearer to be recognized and officially sanctioned for the valour those actions represented which had been faithfully reported on by the newspaper.

But it wanted more. Hodson was modest about his martial endeavour’s and the paper was going to correct that gap in the story and they wanted more information for their valiant Rushden son. The war had carried on, and Hodson had participated in the attack on Vimy on April 9, and yet, the Rushden Echo appears to be more interested in the battle at the Somme. Perhaps this reflects the English-centric perspective of the people of Rushden. The Somme was a singular battle for its mass of casualties and the involvement of the BEF with approximately 1.5 million men engaged representing 50 divisions, a massive undertaking resulting and almost a half-million casualties. The more recent Battle of Arras, by contrast, was of shorter duration (a month compared to 5-months) and involved half the divisions utilizing 23 divisions during the battle. Its impact, compared to that of the Somme, to the English public was less, not only because of the relative length and size of the conflict, but after 3-years of war the public was getting weary of war and the story relating to earning a medal would be of more interest to the readers of Rushden, than the exploits of a foot soldier engaged in routine service at the front-line with a Canadian unit in an successful engagement largely recognized as being Canadian. Or, perhaps, the colonial make-up of the Canadian troops with their reputation of being a little rough around the edges compared to their English brethren was of little interest to the people of this industrial town. Vimy was not of interest from the author’s perspective as far as this article relates. It wants to know more about Hodson’s service at the Somme.

The article’s title lends to its intent – the creation of interest in the subject. It highlights the story about to be related. As has been related in the first article, the 18th Battalion’s War Diary for the events of September 15 and 16 is bereft of detail about the action on those dates – “Not much help to a historian”. Hodson’s reflection of his involvement illuminates some of the activities of the Battalion from his perspective. What is of note is the fact that Lieutenant-Colonel Milligan had given permission to men who where stretcher-bearers to retire from the battle before the main body of surviving soldiers returned from the engagement to be relieved. If Milligan had offered this early relief to these men, it indicated the extreme level of shell-fire and the general intensity of combat. Milligan was no stranger to combat having been a senior officer of the Battalion from its inception. He had experienced all the combat, including the confused and ineffective action at St. Eloi Craters, that led to his eventual command of the Battalion[i]. He would have been aware of the casualties suffered that day and he felt that these men who retrieved the wounded and the dead deserved a chance to live after all they had experienced during those two days.

Yet, despite the risks, Hodson and Worsfold[ii] stay and it is this action that directly contributes to their Military Medals.

As the Battalion is relieved Hodson relates quiet accurately the activities, but not the duration of these activities, of the Battalion during September 16 to 30. The Battalion appears to be shunted from Tara Valley, to resting at Brickfields to a series of marches, a “soldier’s holiday”, to Vandencourt, Lavicogne[iii], St. Leger Les Dormarts[iv], back to Lavicogne, then Vandencourt, to Albert until it relieved the 21st Battalion in the line on September 30.[v]

The approximate route of the 18th Battalion during its “soldier’s holiday” after the engagement at Flers-Courcelette, September 15/16, 1916.

Hodson moves into the line and relates how he had, “…a pretty near squeak…” when a German shell lands near the German ammunition storage dugout they are repurposing as an aid station. A shell lands nearby and he and his comrades beat it down the stairs 30 to 40 feet under-ground when another shell makes a direct hit and they are temporarily buried. All this occurs before the main attack and the work of the stretcher-bearers and medical staff carry on. They have established an aid post, advanced, not because of its technology, but because it is as close to the front-lines as they dare. It is partially destroyed, and these men carry on with their important and essential duties. The line is now 500 yards away and Hodson and seven other men head to the front when he is hit by shrapnel and wounded. He returns to the rear by “hanging onto the strings” a possible reference to rope strung up along the unfamiliar enemy trenches so recently taken used by soldiers to navigate back and forth to their aid, command, and ammunition stations and depots.

Hodson got off lucky. Two days later, on October 3, 1916, the Battalion suffered 24 soldier’s deaths. This day accounted for 69% of that month’s dead for the Battalion. Another example of the awful toll the Somme excised from the Battalion in dead and wounded.

The “blighty”, a wound that had the potential to get him sent to England for treatment, results in his evacuation from the line, along with a comrade. His comrade’s wound is terminal, and he later dies in a base hospital, while Hodson is transferred to the 4th Canadian Field Ambulance, hence to No. 3 Canadian Stationary Hospital at Doullens. His path to recovery is relatively short, indicating the nature of the wound, as he is out of service from October 1, 1916 to January 6, 1917. As he relates:

“How the remainder of us escaped the Lord only knows. I was disappointed in regard to the ‘Blighty’ trip, as they only took me as far as Boulogne, and from the high ground where the hospital is built I could see ‘Blighty’ in the distance, so near yet so far. However, better luck next time. I was in the hospital two weeks, and when i found that I was not marked for ‘Blighty’ I wanted to try my luck again, and so I asked that I might be sent back to my battalion. On discharge from hospital I was sent to the base and there I did two weeks’ fatigue, after which I was sent up the line again to an entrenching battalion. I remained with them as a bugler for about two months; on returning to my old battalion, I joined the band and am now playing the cornet.”

He is so close to England he can see it. He recovers and he is assigned to the Battalion band. It is not clear why, as he was an effective stretcher-bearer, but his sentiments, as expressed in the article, may indicate that he was placed there in recognition for his efforts as a stretcher-bearer. He is obviously pleased as to this near “bombproof” assignment as:

“You can believe me it is better to play a tune behind the lines than to go up the lines and play another sort of to make Fritzy ‘dance.’ I have played all the tunes I want to play up there for over a year, and am quite prepared to give somebody else the chance now.”

Hodson has “done his bit” and he has earned his new assignment. With his prior experience of being a member of Rushden’s Temperance Band before he immigrated to Canada, he can readily accept this assignment and does not mind to state publicly that being in the band is almost “bombproof” – less likely to be exposed to combat – than being a stretcher-bearer. He may have also recognized that the stress of combat was wearing on him and his unit acknowledged his honourable service with an assignment in which he could serve his Battalion faithfully and have a reasonable chance of surviving the war.

The connection with Rushden is further evidenced as he relates that he has met other men from Rushden, particularly Private Roger Walter Helsdowne[vi], another resident from Rushden and now with the 18th Battalion as a replacement having come to the Battalion on July 14, 1916.

As to the way the war ended Hodson was not far wrong. The war would last into the latter part of 1918 and both sides would come to an agreement under the terms of an armistice. The war would not end by the bitter defeat of the enemy in the field, but “by all belligerents coming to terms.”

Having served in Europe and having four leaves where he was able to meet his family in the comfort of a home and town that he was familiar with the Hodsons decided that Canada was still in their future. Hodson, with a clean service record returned to Canada via Liverpool boarding the S.S. Caronia May 14, 1919. He was discharged with other men of the 18th Battalion on May 24, 1919 at London, Ontario with a notation on his discharge papers the he had “scar back of head right side”, a souvenir of the Somme. His proposed residence was Hespeler, Ontario.

Above: Private Ernest Hodson, D.C.M. and, possibly, the factory he worked at when he lived in Brantford, Ontario.

He was not to stay in Hespeler though as we find him and his family of wife Elizabeth, daughter Minnie, and himself moved to Branford, Ontario. There was good reason. His brother, Ernest Hodson[vii], had worked in Brantford before the war. Private Ernest Hodson D.C.M., had worked at the erecting department of Massey Ferguson at Brantford, Ontario. Though a reservist with the Dufferin Rifles of Canada, he felt that his calling was to return to England to enlist with the 2nd Battalion, The Bedforshire Regiment.

It appears that Ernest’s experiences in Brantford motivated his brother Frederick to move to Brantford to continue his life in Canada. The 1921 Census finds him, his wife, and daughter being enumerated in that city. Interestingly, his brother Ernest does not appear in this census at all. He may have stayed in England after the war.

Census sheet showing Hodson in Brantford. Courtesy of Sharon Munro via the 18th Battalion Facebook Group.

The articles in the Rushden Echo give a range of details about Private Frederick Hodson’s service. It helps detail the experience from a personal perspective from a man that was most certainly in the thick of it. From these articles we get some idea of the intensity of combat the Battalion suffered through. It gives sense and tenor to the terror that was that day of September 15/16. It may explain why the War Diary is bereft of any detail. It was to horrible to relate and there were not many men left to relate this action, or would want to. Hodson’s near “blighty” wounding on October 1 was, perhaps, a miraculous intervention creating the circumstances of his removal from the front line two-days prior to a large number of men in the Battalion being killed on October 3. This wound leads to his re-assignment with the Battalion band. He maintains his connection to the Battalion and is able to survive the war and be discharged due to demobilization as part of the last group of men who were released from service with the Battalion at London, Ontario

We see that the Battalion commander, Milligan, was empathetic and concerned for his men during September 15/16. But his actions, if interpreted correctly, also indicate the horror of that day. Milligan was going to let men, including Hodson, a stretcher-bearer, retire from a battle still raging. Thus, the role of retrieving the wounded was going to be denied the men still in the line in active combat. The support of these men was an important element of their motivation to fight. To be wounded and have a reasonable expectation of someone searching out and recovering the wounded was a reasonable expectation of a soldier. The environment of the realities of combat during the Great War made this a challenging task. As a leader Milligan would know this and his order to allow men to retire, some of them stretcher-bearers, indicates that the risks of retrieving the wounded were unacceptable in his mind. He was not willing to order men to step into the front-line to do their duty as the risk was to great. He may have felt he was sending men to certain death. Hodson and others volunteered for this hazardous duty and, as volunteers, was overtly accepting the increased risk, if not an impossible task, of getting the wounded back safely. This interpretation brings the selflessness of Hodson and the other stretcher-bearers’ actions and we will never know how many men owe their lives to the men who, in effect, refused an order from a superior officer to save these men. They had a chance to retire to the rear. They went forward anyways.

The articles also express the idea of being English. The interest in the Rushden Echo to expand on Hodson’s experiences at the Somme so soon after Vimy, in which Hodson took part, coupled with his brother who returned to Canada to serve with an English unit. Though he was also living in Canada before the war and with the Dufferin Rifles in Brantford and would have had an opportunity to enlist with a CEF unit he returned to his native land to enlist. There also is a natural inclination for Hodson to search out and find other former citizens of Rushden and this city’s industrial heritage with shoe and boot-making is expressed in the trades these men have – they are shoe and boot makers.

Private Frederick Hodson, of Rushden, England, late of Galt, Ontario, was a Battalion Original. He served virtually everyday the 18th Battalion existed, save for the time he as on leave or wounded. He was an Englishmen, yet the draw of Canada brought his English born wife and child back to Canada. He was a brave and modest man and one hopes that the life he led reflected the efforts and risks he took on the behalf of others so others may live – That he live a happy and prosperous life and became part of the Canadian mosaic and a definite expression of Canada’s military heritage.

[i] There is some controversy regarding the assignment of some of the battalion commanding officers of the 4th Brigade after April 1916. Lieut.-Col. Wigle was, ostensibly, allowed to return to Canada as his wife was ill but that may have been cover as there was other personnel assignments that appear related to the 4th Canadian Infantry Brigade’s performance at St. Eloi.

[ii] Worsfold, Howard: Service no. 53178 (Military Medal).

[iii] La Vicogne.

[iv] Saint-Léger-lès-Domart.

[v] If this information is correct this route would have required approximately 450 km of travel during these days. It would be interesting to know the reasons for so many billets.

[vi] Helsdowne, Roger Walter: Service 158113.

[vii] Ernest Hodson | Great War Centenary Association, www.doingourbit.ca/profile/ernest-hodson.

Original News Article

Military Medallist at Rushden – How Will the War End? Local Man Enjoys a “Soldier’s Rest” – Hot Time in “Death Valley” – Nearly a “Blighty”

Bandsman Fred Hodson, M.M., of the —Canadian Infantry, son of Mr and Mrs C Hodson, of 14 Crabb-street, Rushden, has been spending ten days’ leave at home with his wife, daughter and parents, this being his first visit to England since he won the medal. Interviewed by a representative of the “Rushden Echo” he gave some interesting particulars as to how he won his distinction.

“It was on September 15th and 16th last year,” he said, “during the fighting on the Somme that I and a comrade of mine, (Drummer Worsfold) obtained a Military Medal apiece for good work as stretcher bearers, and for remaining in the trenches until all the battalion was out. The Colonel told us we could go out if we chose, as the battalion was being relieved that night, but we elected to remain, and stayed there until our battalion had moved back. At that time the Germans were giving us hell, their artillery dropping shells into us thick and fast. By a miracle I got through without a wound, although I did receive a thump in the back from a piece of spent shrapnel, which inflicted no injury except one or two bruises.

We then moved about 15 miles to the rear of the line for ten days to enjoy a “soldier’s holiday,” which means being on the march all the time. We moved up again in reserve about September 25th, and had a fairly quiet time so long as we remained in the reserve line. It was on September 30th that we were sent up to the front line and I had to report at the dressing station. Whilst moving up, I had a pretty lively time, as the Germans were making a special mark of the place where the dressing station was situated. I spent the night in the dressing station, and the next morning four of us were ordered to proceed to an old German Dug-out just behind the front line, and this old Boche dug-out we were instructed to turn into an advanced dressing station. It had previously been a bomb store for the Germans, and was about 30 or 40 feet deep. The enemy had abandoned these stores in their rush to get out before our chaps reached them, and we found the old dug-out absolutely full of grenades and bombs.

“We had a pretty near squeak here. We were standing at the top, and a shell burst about six yards in front of us, but fortunately the force of the explosion was away from us. We beat it down the steps as fast as we could hop it, and had only been under cover two or three minutes when another shell fell right on the top of the entrance, and blew in the woodwork which covered it. However, we experienced little difficulty in getting out.

“At this point , which was known as ‘Death Valley’ we had many trips up to the front line to bring in the wounded, and as the Germans were on the high ground surrounding, they had good observation, and consequently we had a hot time. It was about 3p.m. on Sunday, October 1st, when my battalion had the orders to go ‘over the top.’ They went forward for about 500 yeards and dug themselves in, but did not see any Germans, although the German snipers were responsible for quite a few casualties on our side. It was about 7p.m. the same day that I got a wound that was nearly a ‘Blighty.’ There were about eight of us in a stretcher-aprty, and we were about 200 yards from the dressing station on our way to the front line. A shell came over and fell right amongst us, and I and another chap were wounded. A piece of the shell struck me on the back of the head, and knocked me silly for a minute or so, but as soon as I came round I clapped the field dressing on my head and hanging on to the strings I beat it as hard as I could pelt for the dressing station, with visions of ‘Blighty.’ The other poor chap, I am sorry to say, died later in the base hospital, from his wounds, whick were in the back.

“Whilst I have been out there I have met many Rushden chaps, including Roger Helsdown, who formerly lived in Rushden. We often had a good talk about Rushden, and I used to lend him my ‘Rushden Echo’ whenever I received it.”

Asked for his opinion as to how long the war would last, Bandsman Hodson said that he could not see the end in sight. He did not think fighting would finish and the only manner in which the fighting might be brought to an end would be in his opinion, by all the belligerents coming to terms.

Source: https://www.rushdenheritage.co.uk/war/hodsonF1917.html

Rushden Echo & Argus, 3rd August 1917, transcribed by Kay Collins

“…a pretty near squeak…” This is the last of a 4-part series of the analysis of articles relating to Private Frederick Hodson, who served with the 18… 3,772 more words

#Brantford Ontario #Flers-Courcelette #Galt Ontario #Hespeler Ontario #LIEUT Col. H.L. MILLIGAN #Private #Rushden #Rushden Echo #volunteer

0 notes

writingguide003-blog · 5 years ago

Text

'A total blast': our writers pick their favorite summer blockbusters ever

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/a-total-blast-our-writers-pick-their-favorite-summer-blockbusters-ever/

'A total blast': our writers pick their favorite summer blockbusters ever

As the season heats up on the big screen, Guardian writers look back on their picks from the past with killer sharks, mournful crime-fighters and time-traveling teens

Face/Off (1997)

Photograph: Allstar/Cinetext/PARAMOUNT

Madman bomber Nicolas Cage stole John Travoltas dead sons life. So gloomy FBI agent Travolta steals Cages face. When Cage steals his face and his wife and freedom John Woos Face/Off becomes the biggest, wackiest and most operatic summer blockbuster in history, a gonzo combustion that flings everything from pigeons to peaches at the screen.

Hong Kong cineastes might applaud a script with roots in the ancient Sichuan opera genre Bian Lian, where performers swap masks like magic. Popcorn-munchers, of which I am front row center, are here to watch whack job Cage and soulful Travolta, two actors who love to go full-ham, play each other and go deep inside their iconographies. Call it hamception. Or just call it a crazy swing that hits a home run as Cavolta and Trage battling it out in a warehouse, a speedboat and, of course, a church. As Cage-as-Travolta gloats to Travolta-as-Cage, Isnt this religious? The eternal battle between good and evil, saint and sinners but youre still not having any fun! Maybe hes not, but we sure are. Bravo, bravo. AN

Edge of Tomorrow (2014)

Photograph: David James/Publicity image from film company

Theres been an increasing sense of desperation clinging to the majority of roles picked by Tom Cruise in recent years. Outside of the still shockingly entertaining Mission: Impossible series, he was miscast in the barely serviceable Jack Reacher and its maddeningly unnecessary sequel, his awards-aiming American Made was throwaway and his franchise-starting The Mummy was a franchise-killer. But four summers ago, he picked the right horse just maybe at the wrong time.

Because despite how deliriously fun Edge of Tomorrow was in the summer of 2014, audiences didnt show the requisite enthusiasm. It was a moderate success (enough to warrant a long-gestating sequel) but it should have packed them in, its combination of charm, invention and sheer thrills making it one of the most objectively successful blockbuster experiences in memory. The nifty plot device (Cruise must relive a day of dying while battling aliens over and over again) allowed for some dark gallows humor and a frenetic pace that kept us all giddily on edge while it also contained a dazzling action star turn from Emily Blunt whose fearless Full Metal Bitch wrestled the film away from Cruise. Blame its relative failure on the bland title? Cruise fatigue? Blockbuster over-saturation? Then find a digital copy to watch and rewatch and repeat. BL

Back to the Future (1985)

Photograph: Allstar/UNIVERSAL/Sportsphoto Ltd./Allstar

Back to the Future very nearly wasnt a summer blockbuster. The reshoots required after Eric Stoltz was booted off, then the fact Michael J Foxs Family Ties commitments meant he could only shoot at night all meant filming didnt wrap until late April. Robert Zemeckis and Steven Spielberg duly pencilled in an August / September release.

But then people started seeing it. Test scores were off the scale. Said producer Frank Marshall: Id never seen a preview like that. The audience went up to the ceiling. So they bagsied the best spot the year had to offer 3 July hired a squad of sound editors to work round the clock and two print editors with instructions to get properly choppy. They did, and those big trims tightened yet further one of the tautest screenplays (by Bob Gale) cinema has ever seen. The only bit of fat they left was the Johnny B Goode scene: sure, it didnt advance the story, but the kids at those test screenings knew we were gonna love it. Back to the Future is a pure shot of summer cinema: grand, ambitious, insanely entertaining. Deadpool, Avengers, take note: a blockbuster can be smart as hell so long as it wears it lightly. In the end, by the way, the film spent 11 weeks at number 1 at the US box office. Thats essentially the whole summer. CS

Teminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)

Photograph: Allstar/TRISTAR/Sportsphoto Ltd./Allstar

The first film I ever saw at the cinema was The Rocketeer. We drove into Bradford city centre, bought our tickets at the Odeon and sat through the 1991 tale which followed the fortunes of a stunt pilot, a rocket pack and a Nazi agent played by Timothy Dalton who sounded like he was from Bury rather than Berlin. The way into the multiplex there was a huge poster for Terminator 2: Judgment Day. Arnie sat on a Harley with a shotgun cocked and ready. My dad was a huge fan of the original but he still couldnt swing taking a seven-year-old to see it. It wasnt until I borrowed a VHS copy that I finally got to see what was behind that image. Skynet, dipshits, T-1000s, a nuclear holocaust and a motorbike chases on the LA river.

Blockbusters dont usually have that edge: theres a more brazen mainstream appeal. But Judgment Day was and still is an exception. It did huge numbers at the box office (more than $500m), was a rare sequel that was arguably better than the original and introduced really odd bits of Spanish idiom into the Bradford schoolyard lexicon. I probably would have been scarred for life watching it as a seven-year-old, but as a teenager it gave me a story I doubt Ill ever get tired of revisiting. LB

The Dark Knight (2008)

Photograph: Allstar/WARNER BROS.

The summer of 2008 was a busy one: Barack Obama emerged from a contentious democratic primary to become the first ever black presidential nominee of a major party. The dam fortifying the entire global financial system was about to burst. China hosted its first ever Summer Olympics. But somehow, and not exactly to my credit, what I remember most from that summer is the uncanny, ridiculously over-the-top publicity blitzkrieg that preceded the release of The Dark Knight, which has since emerged as not just an all-time great summer blockbuster, but an all-time great American film, period.

There were faux-political billboards that read I believe in Harvey Dent; a weirdly nondescript website of the same name; Joker playing cards dispersed throughout comic book stores, which led fans to another website where the DA was defaced with clown makeup. Dentmobiles, Gotham City voter registration cards, a pop-up local news channel: the marketing campaign might have seemed excessive had the movie not so convincingly topped it. Ten years later, as films like Deadpool and Avengers: Infinity War try to reach those same heights of virality, The Dark Knight remains the measuring stick by which every superhero movie, and superhero villain, is measured. JN

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

Photograph: Jasin Boland/AP

In many ways, Fury Road is summer: arid, scorching, bright enough to be squinted at. The driving force behind all the high-impact driving is scarcity of water, the essence of life in a desert where death practically rises up from the burning sand. Even in the air-conditioned comfort of a multiplex auditorium in Washington DCs Chinatown, watching George Millers psychotic motor opera left this critic sweaty and parched. My world is fire and blood, warns the weary Max Rockatansky (Tom Hardy) in the scripts opening lines. Staggering out of a theater into the oppressive rays of the sun, it sure can feel that way.

Millers masterpiece fits into the summer blockbuster canon in a less literal capacity as well, striking its ideal balance of dazzling technical spectacle and massively-scaled emotional catharsis. There was plenty of breathless praise to go around upon this films 2015 release, much of it for the feats of practical-effects daring, but the hysterical extremes of feeling cemented its status as a modern classic. I cant deny that Ive watched the polecat sequence upwards of a dozen times, but Millers film truly comes alive in Furiosas howl of desperation, and in Maxs noble disappearance into the throng. CB

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo

Its the music, its the giant boulder, its the Old Testament mysticism, its the whip, its the Cairo Swordsman, its Harrison Fords crooked smile, its the bad dates, its Karen Allen drinking a sherpa under the table, its the melted faces and exploding heads. Its all these things plus having the good fortune of seeing this at the cinema at a very young age, therefore watching most of it through my terrified fingers. (Indy tells Marion to keep her eyes shut during the cosmic spooky ending; way ahead of you there!)

The modern blockbuster as we know it was created by Steven Spielberg with Jaws and George Lucas with Star Wars, so the hype was unmatched when the two collaborated in 1981 with Raiders of the Lost Ark. As a kid I had no idea this was a loving homage to cliffhanger serials from the 30s and 40s, I took it as pure adventure. The seven-and-a-half minute desert truck chase (I dont know, Im making thus up as I go) is probably the best action sequence in all of cinema (John Woos Hard Boiled does not have a horse, sorry), but watching as an adult one notices a lot of sophisticated humor, too. (Indy being too exhausted to make love to Marion, for example, is something that didnt connect when I was six.)

Its strange to think I watched these cartoon Nazis on VHS with my grandparents who had escaped the Holocaust, and no one benefits when you do the math to figure out how young Marion was when, as Indy puts it, you knew what you were doing. But for thrills, laughs and propulsive camerawork (though a little mild Orientalism), nothing tops this one. JH

Independence Day (1996)

Photograph: Everett/REX/Shutterstock

Short of actually calling their film Summer Blockbuster, rarely can a films height-of-summer release date been so central to a films raison detre. This being the mid-90s, when po-mo and self-referentiality was all the rage, brazenly hooking your tentpole film to 4 July was seen as a pretty smart idea.

Fortunately, all the ducks did line up in a row for ID4: a game-changing performance from Will Smith, Jeff Goldblum at (arguably) his funniest, a rousingly Clintoneque president in Bill Pullman and most importantly in that run-up to the millennium physical destruction on a gigantic scale. Much comment at the time was expended on the laser obliteration of the White House (an early shot from the Tea Party/Maga crowd?), but I personally cherish director Roland Emmerichs signature move of detonating cars in somersault formation. Like many other huge-budget films then and since, Independence Day was basically a tooled-up retread of cheap-as-chips format of earlier decades though who these days would roll such expensive dice on what is essentially an original script, with no comic book or toy branding as a forerunner? We shall never see its like again. AP

Aliens (1986)

Photograph: Allstar/20 CENTURY FOX/Sportsphoto Ltd./Allstar

An Aliens summer is one for moviegoers who prefer to sit in in darkened rooms when the sun is shining; the brutal confines of the fiery power plant make an excellent subliminal ad for air conditioning. In 1986, James Cameron took Ridley Scotts elegant, iconic horror template and turned it into an all-out action blockbuster, forcing Ripley once again to face down her nemeses in a breathless fug of claustrophobia, sweat and fear. Its relentlessly stressful and unbelievably thrilling.

I first saw Aliens many years after its initial release. Owing to its sizeable and long-lasting legacy, it was at once immediately familiar, yet also brisk and brutally fresh. I understood that it was a classic, but I wasnt prepared for just how good it is, for the pitch-perfect management of tension, the pace that never really lets up, the emotional pull. The maternal undertow of Ripleys protection of Newt, and the alien mirror of that, adds a level of heart unusual in most blockbusters, and her frustration at being a woman whose authority must be earned again and again, and then proven again and again, remains grimly relevant, 30 years on. Its also a total blast. Now get away from her, you bitch. RN

Jaws (1975)

Photograph: Fotos International/Getty Images

It is the great summer blockbuster ancestor the film that in 1975 more or less invented the concept of the event movie. And unlike all those other summer blockbusters, Steven Spielbergs Jaws is actually about the summer; it is explicitly about the institution of the summer vacation, into which the movie was being sold as part of the seasonal entertainment. It is about the sun, the sand, the beach, the ocean and the entirely justified fear of being eaten alive by an enormous shark with the appetite of a serial killer and the cunning of a U-boat commander. And more than that: it is about that most contemporary of political phenomena: the coverup, the town authorities at a seaside resort putting vacationers at risk by not warning them about the shark. The Jaws mayor has become comic shorthand for the craven and pusillanimous politician.

A blockbuster nowadays means spectacular digital effects, but this film is from an analogue world. It bust the block through brilliant film-making and an inspired score from John Williams, summoning up the shark with a simple two-note theme which became the most famous musical expression of evil since Bernard Herrmanns shrieking violin stabs in Psycho took the place of actual knife-slashing. I still remember the excitement of the summer of 1975, and the queues around the block at the Empire, in Watford, round the corner from the football ground. The inspired brevity of the title meant the word was repeated over and over again to fill the marquee display: JAWS JAWS JAWS as if they were screaming it! PB

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

0 notes